Healing Scars
by Bookwrm389
Summary: Sequel to Open Wounds. Ed returns to Rush Valley with one goal in mind. To hunt down the one who assaulted his mechanic. When outright violence fails, Ed resolves to beat the guy at his own game...whether Winry wants him to or not.
1. Detour

_A.N. Um...sequel to Open Wounds? Well, not really. Several people expressed a wish for a oneshot sequel about Ed kicking ass, but I felt there was more to the story than that. Just to be clear, you DON'T have to read Open Wounds before this story. Healing Scars expands on the events in Open Wounds while also standing on its own. Everything relative to the plot has been included in this fic._

_Anyway, it should be a fun ride whether you treat this as a sequel or an entirely new story. I can't believe how long it actually got! Expect no less than ten chapters loaded with action, angst, humor, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance and butt-kicking awesomeness—in other words, everything you need for the standard EdWin fic!_

Chapter One - Detour

"So_...why_ are we going to Rush Valley again?"

Ed grimaced at Al's question, recognizing the subtle undertone that said his brother wasn't about to let him get away with another flimsy excuse. He propped his hand in his chin and set his eyes on some fixed point outside the window. A loud whistle announced their departure from the station, and the train inched away from the platform. Rush Valley was the next stop. Just a few more hours...

"My automail," Ed said gruffly, hoping Al would take the hint.

"But your automail is fine," Al said slowly. "So why are we really going? To see Winry?"

"Yes. _For my_ _automail_."

"Brother," Al said, getting impatient. "Does this have to do with Winry calling you the night before last?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Did Winry ask us to come?"

"No."

Ed didn't have to look to see Al tilt his head in consternation at his brusqueness. He could see his brother's reflection in the window. The train picked up speed as it left the previous town behind, zooming through the fields of sheep that dominated the southeastern part of the country. Resembool would be just over those bluish-green hills on the horizon. Those hills completely encircled the valley their hometown resided in, beautiful and unreachable all at once.

"It _does_ have something to do with that phone call," Al said decisively. "She never calls us, usually. You were talking to her for awhile, so it wasn't just a maintenance check. And even so, she wouldn't have called so late at night just for that..."

"_Drop it_, Alphonse."

In retrospect, taking that tone may have been a mistake. He wasn't so good at hiding his emotions to begin with, and there was no way Ed could have disguised the way his voice dropped to almost a growl, expressing a smoldering rage that lacked only a target to kindle it. Ed imagined his wrath as a beast prowling behind his ribs, pacing endlessly, chanting one thing over and over.

_Go to Winry. Go to Winry. Don't wait, don't think, just go..._

"Brother," Al faltered. "Did something happen to Winry?"

The beast roared, and Ed's heart pounded out a savage rhythm as the scenery swam before his eyes. His automail hand clenched the edge of his seat hard enough to make the steel whine in protest, and Ed had to lock his jaw tight when the memory of Winry's voice from two nights ago came back to him, made tiny and feeble by the wires it traveled through to reach him all the way in East City.

_I shouldn't have called you like this, out of the blue. I wasn't really thinking..._

"Ed!"

Al leaned over to grab his arm, shaking him slightly. "Winry is my friend too! How am I supposed to help her if you won't tell me what happened?"

_Even if I tell you what happened, what do you plan to do about it, huh Ed? Do you think you can protect me from two hundred miles away?_

Ed sucked in a deep, semi-calming breath. "She wouldn't tell me why she called," he said finally.

"She...wouldn't?" Al said, sounding dumbfounded at the notion of Winry keeping a secret from _them _for a change.

Ed crossed his arms and set his foot against the opposite seat, tempted to kick it and see if Winry's automail was powerful enough to crack the solid wood. He wouldn't have been surprised. She never did things by halves, especially not where her work was concerned. It was so hard to remember that the hands that had crafted his limbs belonged to a fifteen-year-old girl. Granted, Winry was no ordinary girl, possessing a will quite as unyielding as the metal she worked with.

But how many people would know that at first glance?

"She was upset about something," Ed muttered, flexing the metal toes inside his boot. "Angry and...crying."

"What did she say?" Al said anxiously.

Ed blew a strand of hair out of his face and snorted. "Some crap about how she shouldn't have called in the first place and that she was being a burden to us. Kept trying to find an excuse to hang up on me. Idiot. Like I was gonna let her go when she was like _that_..."

"But that still doesn't explain why we're—"

"Someone attacked her."

Al's armor jerked at the revelation, and several people looked up in alarm when he cried out. "What do you _mean_ someone attacked her? And how do you know that if she wouldn't tell you anything?"

"Her lip was split open," Ed said bitterly, making no attempt to hide how he felt about _that_. "Hard to disguise that even over the phone."

"Who was it?"

"Hell if I know. She wouldn't tell me, remember?"

"Is Winry _okay?_"

"Hell if I know that either."

"_Brother!_" Al said in exasperation, throwing his hands up. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Well, _clearly_, I didn't know enough to bother!" Ed shot back heatedly. "Why do you think we're going to Rush Valley?"

Al sank back in his seat, looking a little off to the side, and Ed noted with satisfaction that both his gauntleted hands were now fists. If _Al _was angry, then no one could accuse Ed of overreacting. But that also brought home just how _real _it all was. Ed watched the countryside slide past them at a snail's pace. The train really could _not _be going any slower. He pondered if it would be faster to jump out the window and fly to Rush Valley on his own two feet. _Anything_ that would let them get there faster so he could find out which sorry bastard in that town had a death wish.

"She wouldn't tell you anything," Al said in a very small voice. "When we were kids, Winry would _always _tell us if someone was bullying her."

"I think this went a little beyond bullying," Ed said darkly. "Winry is strong, she never just _lets_ other people get to her. Even if a stranger mugged her in the street, she wouldn't be crying about it."

"What are you saying, Brother?" Al asked, confused.

Ed bared his teeth at the faces of the innocent sheep blinking at him from behind the fenced field. "I'm saying whoever split her lip open was someone she thought would never do such a thing. It was someone she knew."

Deep in his chest, the beast cried for blood.


	2. Nightmare

Chapter Two - Nightmare

Ed figured he should be used to this dream by now, but it always had a way of catching him off guard.

His automail surgery had been three years ago, and his memory of it was dicey, broken up by pain and delirium. He only recalled a few lucid moments on that operating table, but his imagination had no trouble filling in the rest. The straps binding his body seemed to be tighter than he remembered, and the lights brighter than they were supposed to be, the instruments sharper and shinier...

And it _hurt_, damn it! It _hurt!_ He had thought he was dying when he first woke up after the surgery to install the ports. His brain just couldn't figure out why there was _metal _and _wires_ attached to his nerves and bolted to his bones. It was _unnatural_ and _wrong_, and his body did everything it could to reject it. But no matter how bad the pain got, they _could not _put him under again. Drugging him would only delay his recovery and trap him in an addictive cycle of pain and oblivion and more pain. It had to be _endured_.

Gradually, Ed became aware that he wasn't the only one in the room who was sobbing. He turned his head and saw Winry standing in the far corner. _Young _Winry, the Winry that had seen him through his automail surgery. And towering over her was Mitch, the schoolyard menace from his childhood, the bully who had no qualms about shoving girls face first in the mud. Only now he was older, bigger, and the threat he posed far more sinister.

_Winry...Winry, run...the door...get away..._

Ed tried to say the words, _scream _the words, but his voice was gone. Mitch grabbed her wrists and pulled her close to him, arms bulging with muscles that could snap the girl before him like a twig. Winry shrank away from him, tears streaming down her face—

_Don't you make her cry, you bastard!_

She was so much _smaller_ than him, so frail and slender, she wouldn't stand a chance, and he _couldn't help her—_

_Winry, fight back! Don't let him hurt you! Don't go near her! Don't, don't, _don't..._  
_

The next part came from his own imagination, his own fears, as the now faceless attacker seized Winry's hair and kissed her viciously, drinking in her tears like it was wine—

_DON'T TOUCH HER!_

The train whistle cut through the image in his mind and splintered it apart. Ed blinked at the window his forehead was resting on, shaking and sweating from a dream he only half-remembered. Something about his surgery and Winry and...the schoolyard? He straightened up in his seat with a frown. If he put his mind to it, he could probably remember what it was all about, but from the way his heart was pounding in his throat maybe it was in his best interest to forget.

"We're almost there, Brother."

"Mn," Ed mumbled indistinctly. He reached up and unlatched the window, letting the cool mountain air evaporate the evidence of his nightmare. They would get into Rush Valley late, but the town prospered in the night just as much as the day. Even from here Ed could see the glow of the town, a bubble of light settled over the rocky valley.

He tapped his foot impatiently as they waited for the train to pull into the station, hopping out of his seat before they had even stopped completely. This allowed him to be one of the first passengers off the train, and Ed jogged across the dark platform to the street on the other side where he paused to get his bearings. Al caught up to him shortly, carrying the suitcase Ed had forgotten in his rush to disembark.

"Who's Winry apprenticed to again?" Ed asked, squinting up and down the line of shops across from them.

"Garfiel," Al told him, setting off in the right direction. "I think it's this way, a couple streets down. Look for a sign with a flower."

"Oh yeah, the flower guy," Ed muttered, distracted by a group of intoxicated young men lounging around outside a bar nearby. Each of them was oblivious to his scrutiny, and Ed shook his head at his own paranoia. He could hardly expect the perpetrator to be carrying a sign that said,_ It was me, come strangle me!_ First, he had to go see Winry and get some answers out of her, or at the very least a _name_..._  
_  
"Brother," Al said quietly. "What if it was Mr. Garfiel who hit her?"

Ed stopped dead in his tracks. Then he broke into a run, only to have Al catch him by the arm. "Al, let me go—!"

"Just hold on a second!" Al said quickly. "It was only a suggestion! I don't want you going into Garfiel's shop with that look on your face!"

"What look?" Ed barked, trying and failing to jerk his arm free.

"You _know _what look!" Al admonished. "You're going to hit first and ask questions later! You can't _do _that to Winry's tutor! He might expel her!"

"Well, what do you expect me to do?"

"_Calm down_, for one!"

"Okay, _fine!_"

But Al _still _wouldn't let him go. Ed took several deep breaths and gave himself a sharp rap on the head with his knuckles to erase his scowl. "Okay. I'm calm."

"Brother," Al said, falling into step beside him. "You still haven't told me what you plan to do about this."

"Isn't that obvious?"

"No, actually."

Ed stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well, for _one—!_"

And he paused. Ed really _hadn't_ thought about what they would do once they got to Rush Valley. Actually, he hadn't thought much _at all _after Winry's phone call two nights before. His head had been taken up with only two things in all that time. _Get to Winry _and _kick the crap out of her attacker_. Somehow, he didn't think Al would be pleased to hear _that_.

"You didn't plan this at all, did you?" Al said jadedly.

"Are you suggesting we should just leave her?" Ed said in a low voice.

"No, of _course_ not," Al replied patiently as they turned down another street. "But does she even know we're coming?"

"Yeah, I made an appointment," Ed assured him. "Told her my automail was messed up."

"Which it _isn't_. You don't think she'll notice that?"

Ed halted, frowning at his right hand in dismay. Unfortunately, he had been keeping up with the maintenance, and for once both his arm and leg were in pristine condition. Winry had specifically told him on the phone not to make a detour just for her benefit, which was why Ed had gone to the trouble of pretending he needed an appointment.

He took off his coat and turned his bare shoulder to Al. "Hit me."

"Excuse me?" Al said dubiously.

"_Hit_ me!" Ed repeated loudly, stepping closer. "Just hard enough to knock the plating off or something! That should satisfy her."

But Al backed away hastily. "I'm not going to _hit_ you! What if I hurt you?"

"That's kind of the whole point. Come on, Al, you _know _you want to..."

"Forget it, I'm not doing it!"

"Damn it, Al! Be a good brother and break my automail!"

"_No!_"

"_Watch out!_"

Ed turned and ducked aside just in time to avoid being run over by someone. The guy whooshed past him at an impossible speed, nothing more than a blur, and Ed staggered back just as a second figure zoomed by. "What the—!"

"_One side, shorty!_"

A third person zipped behind him, clipping Ed in the side and sending him sprawling to the ground. Ed spat dirt on his mouth and shouted at the distant figures indignantly. "_I'm NOT short, you jerks!_"

Al helped him to his feet, also looking after the three speed demons. "Huh..."

"Huh, what?" Ed snapped, brushing dirt off his coat.

"Did you see what they were wearing?"

"I dunno, rockets?"

"Rollerblades," Al corrected him. "We saw them in East City, remember? Those skates made for the street instead of ice. I didn't know they'd already spread so far."

"You mean those boot things with the wheels on them?" Ed scoffed in contempt, remembering the contraptions boldly displayed in a shop window. "Well, there's your proof of what I was saying the other day! There's a _reason_ skating is a winter sport. It limits the number of broken bones and concussions to once a year instead of—_hey!_"

"What?"

Ed held up his right hand in glee, revealing that the last two fingers were bent the wrong way and no longer functioning. "I landed on it wrong! Winry can't accuse me of coming under false pretenses now!"

"Even though you are," Al said blandly.

"Shut up," Ed whined. "Let's just get going..."

Despite residing in one of the town's busier districts, Garfiel's shop was already closed and locked up for the night. What was more, there were no lights on upstairs where the living quarters were, so it was safe to assume that both Winry and Garfiel were asleep. Ed, having failed to plan for such an eventuality, kicked a trash can in irritation. "Well..."

"Well," Al repeated glumly.

Ed stepped up to the window and peered through the frilly curtains at the dark interior. "Okay, let's go in."

"You want to break in?" Al yelped.

"It's not breaking in if you know the people!" Ed insisted righteously. "I'm not wasting money for one night in a hotel when we could stay here."

Ed clapped his hands without further ado and transmuted the handle off the front door so they could enter. Al reluctantly followed him, tiptoeing around the front end of the store gingerly. "There are all kinds of things wrong with this, but I just can't seem to think of what they are..."

"Good," Ed stated. "Because I'm gonna go get cozy with the couch in the workshop, and I'd rather not be forced to sleep through your lecture."

"Just don't blame me if Mr. Garfiel thinks your a burglar and chases you out," Al said as he repaired the door with alchemy. "I think I'll stay outside tonight. It's a good night for stargazing. Lock the door behind me."

"Sure, sure."

Once Al was safely outside with the stars—and, hopefully, no stray cats—for company, Ed kicked off his boots and tossed his coat over the first chair he saw. He considered adding his shirt and pants to the pile so he could sleep in his boxers, but the less Winry had to yell at him for the better. And he had no doubt there would be yelling. There always was when he came for a repair. It was always _his _fault, for some reason.

The workshop was in the very back of the store next to the tiny kitchenette, not hard to find when the lights were on, but since Ed couldn't find a switch it took him some trial and error. He blindly felt his way along a counter until he found a door and pushed it open, breathing in deeply when he crossed the threshold. Machine oil and steel. Yes, this was definitely the right place. Ed took a few halting steps until he found the couch by banging his knee against it and sank onto the cushions. A little lumpy, but he had definitely slept on worse.

He turned his head when he thought he heard movement nearby, sensing more than seeing a shadow out in the kitchenette. Was that Al? No, Ed was sure he would have heard the armor...

"Winry?" Ed said softly, rising from the couch and approaching the workshop door. As soon as he pulled the door open, something very large and very solid smacked him in the head, and he fell back with a yelp of pain.

"_Damn you, Cal, I told you not to come back!_"

"Damn _you_, woman!" Ed roared. "_Look_ before you swing!"

A light flicked on somewhere above him. Winry blinked down at him in shock, clad only in an oversized sleeping shirt and armed with, of all things, a teakettle. "Ed?"

"I used to be," Ed grumbled, nursing his head. "So we're chucking kitchen tools now? If I'd known, I would have brought my skillet. I _swear_, one of these days you're going to hit me too hard and turn me into a drooling idiot..."

Winry set the kettle on the stove behind her and rounded on him crossly. "Just what do you think you're _doing_, breaking in like this? You almost gave me a heart attack! All you had to do was knock on the door, but—!"

"Who's Cal?"

Winry froze at the name. Literally, froze. Her mouth hung open, but no words came out, and Ed didn't miss the way her eyes widened just slightly at the name. Winry snapped her mouth shut and swallowed a few times. "He's no one, Ed," she muttered.

"Right," Ed said in disbelief. His eyes zeroed in on her swollen lip, and he felt the beast stirring from its slumber at the sight. "And I suppose _no one_ also busted your lip?"

Winry covered her lip with her fingers and shot him a defiant look. "As a matter of fact, I split it open on the edge of the worktable."

"And how did your lip come in contact with the worktable?" Ed snarled. "A little help from..._Cal_, was it? What's that short for, anyway? Calcium?"

"Callahan. Family name."

Ed nodded once and filed the name away very carefully, already making plans to go around town asking if anyone knew this _Callahan_. If he was a local then he wouldn't be for long. If not, he wouldn't be in _any _hurry to return to Rush Valley once Ed was through with him.

Winry's shoulders lifted and fell in a drained sigh, watching him from behind a curtain of hair. "Ed, why are you here? If you came looking for a fight, then you might as well turn right back around and board the train. I don't need your help, and I _don't _need a protector!"

"I know you don't," Ed said defensively. "What, I can't come and check up on my friend once in awhile?"

"That's not why you came and you know it!" Winry said furiously. "You're _not_ here to check on me, you haven't even asked if I'm alright!"

The beast stuck its tail between its legs and whimpered. Ed grimaced at the accusation, wanting to defend his actions and knowing it would be useless. She was right. He hadn't even _thought _to ask, just _assumed_...

His blood ran cold at the thought that maybe there was _more _than just the lip. Were there bruises under that shirt? Cuts? Bandages? Worst of all, Ed still didn't know for sure _why_ Winry had been attacked. Sure, it could have been something trivial, but his gut told him otherwise. And being in the military had made him privy to all kinds of horror stories involving young women and the men who were supposed to protect them.

_God, what if...what if he touched her? What if he r—_

No, he couldn't even _think _of that vile word. Ed felt as if his whole world was going topsy-turvy. Up was down, right was left, he was unharmed while his childhood friend suffered. Winry was supposed to be _safe_ from threats like this!

"_Are _you alright?" Ed said roughly.

"Yes, I'm fine," Winry said primly. "Thank you for _finally _asking."

Ed had a hard time believing she was really _fine_, but Winry didn't give him a chance to quiz her for details before she spun on her heel and left the workshop. He trailed after her, pausing at the bottom of the stairs as she slowly made her way up to the second floor. "Look, Winry..."

"I'll fix your automail tomorrow," Winry said over her shoulder. "I saw your fingers, and you better _not _have messed them up on purpose just as an excuse to come see me."

"No, I—"

"Good, then," Winry cut in sharply. "There are extra blankets in the linen closet, and _don't _sleep in your boxers. Mr. Garfiel wakes up early, I'll leave a note on his door so he knows you two are here. At least, I assume Al came with you?"

"Y-Yeah, he did. But Winry, I just want to know—"

"Good _night_, Edward."

Ed watched her ascend the stairs and vanished from his sight, feeling like he had lost some kind of battle. And he _hated _losing. Left with nothing better to do, he got a bundle of blankets from the closet and made up the couch in the workshop. Tomorrow would be another day. Maybe he could talk to Winry while she repaired his fingers, try to learn more about this _Callahan_, who apparently deserved a kettle to the head just as much as he did.

_The worktable..._

He sat bolt upright, staring at the table across the workroom in dawning horror. Whatever happened had happened _here_. In _this_ room. But the only people allowed back here were Winry, Garfiel...

And their customers. Cal wasn't just an acquaintance, he was a _customer_.

Ed punched the arm of the couch and spat a curse under his breath. _Bastard...just what did you do to my mechanic?_


	3. Customer

_A.N. First time writing Garfiel. I thought he was a bit strange when I first saw him in the manga, but I actually had a lot of fun writing him. He's a very cheerful person in my head, like a mix between Armstrong and Hughes with a heavy dose of femininity._

Chapter Three - Customer

He must be dreaming, Ed thought in bemusement. He couldn't think of any other explanation for being woken up this early in the morning by a beefy, thinly-mustached man wearing a frilly robe and a hairnet.

"Rise and shine, young man!" Garfiel chimed. To Ed's irritation, he snatched away all the blankets and bundled them up out of reach. "There are no lay-a-bouts in_ my_ shop. I could use an extra hand with the dusting before my customers arrive. Let's go, up you get!"

"But I'm a _guest!_" Ed protested, making a feeble grab for the blankets.

Garfiel _tsked_ and wagged a finger in his face. "And would you rather repay my generosity with money or with courtesy? Your brother has been exceedingly helpful this morning, a perfect gentleman, none of this whining about being a _guest_. Don't laze about! I have tea on the stove, and there won't be any left for you if you don't get moving. And _do _fix your hair, would you? Wearing it loose like that makes you look like a bum on the street."

Garfiel bustled off with such brisk efficiency that Ed could have easily taken him for a very masculine housewife rather than an automail engineer. And he supposed he should be grateful he was getting off with chores rather than a wrench to the head. At least this was far better than what he and Al had suffered at Teacher's hand. Ed had some _very _unpleasant memories of hauling meat to and from the walk-in icebox at the back of her and her husband's butcher shop.

He took his time getting up and staggered into the main shop groggily, studiously ignoring Garfiel's pursed lips at his messy ponytail. Al was currently sweeping up near the front door, and he looked up at Ed's entrance. "Morning, Brother. Duster is over there."

"Mn," Ed grumbled, picking up the duster in question and swiping at a few displays without enthusiasm. When he glanced out the window he could see the shops across the street also opening up, and the noise level in the city was steadily rising. On the street outside, a pair of youths went speeding by on more of those rollerblades.

"Jeez, don't they have anything better to do?" Ed complained over the noise of the wheels on the asphalt.

"I guess rollerblading is pretty popular here," Al commented.

"Oh, more than popular!" Garfiel laughed. "One of the apprentices down the road brought a pair back from Dublith a few months ago, and everyone just went _nuts_ over them. Street racing has become the new fad for all the youngsters in the valley. They're even commissioning their mechanics to make custom skates from spare parts so they don't have to order them from the big cities."

"You're not serious," Ed said incredulously. "And the engineers really don't mind making them?"

Garfiel took the tea off the stove and started pouring cups for all of them. "Why would they mind when they get paid for it?" he said smartly. "I told you, they're very popular. But you boys are lucky to get in town now! There's been a _fierce_ competition going on among the serious street racers, and the final race will be run just a few days from now. I haven't seen Rush Valley this worked up since chrome outfitting became mainstream!"

Al set the broom against the wall, and they joined Garfiel at the table in the back of the shop. "It seems like racing on those skates could get really dangerous," he pointed out.

"Oh yes, _very _dangerous!" Garfiel exclaimed. "One wrong move at those speeds can be devastating. I can't tell you how many broken limbs we've had..."

"Broken bones?" Al said in alarm.

"Automail," Garfiel corrected him. "But yes, bones as well. Not that it's done a thing to deter the others. Young people these days have _no_ concept of self-preservation. If you ask me, it's only a matter of time before one of those racers takes a bad fall and splits their head open on the roadside. Toast?"

Ed accepted some buttered toast and munched on it without really listening, preferring to stare at his crippled fingers and brood over his conversation with Winry the night before. Not that it could really be called a conversation, one-sided as it had been. He cast a shrewd look at the stairs, but his mechanic had yet to make an appearance.

"Mr. Garfiel," Ed said quietly. "What do you know about a guy named Callahan? He's a customer of Winry's, right?"

Al looked at him sharply, then back at engineer. Garfiel pressed his lips together and set his tea down with a loud _clink_, folding his hands neatly before him. "And why, may I ask, do you wish to know about him?"

"Depending on what I learn, I may have to go kick his ass," Ed said bluntly.

Garfiel chuckled heartily and patted Ed's arm. "A man with chivalry! How refreshing!"

"He maims someone everywhere he goes," Al said in resignation.

"So what can you tell us?" Ed asked, pointedly ignoring his brother and giving the tea a cautious sip. It was a little too bitter for him, but there were too many witnesses to risk covertly adding some milk. Al would never let him hear the end of it.

"Hmm," Garfiel mused. "Not much, I'm afraid. I can't say I spent much time in his company. He began coming to Winry a month ago for new arm to replace an older model. Not that there was anything _wrong _with the old arm, just that he wanted better and had the money to get it. His father is military, you see. He's all over the country on duty most of the time, leaving his son to languish in whatever town he happens to be stationed in. Personally, I think Callahan could have used an older man around to set him straight on some things..."

"What do you mean?" Al inquired.

Garfiel met each of their eyes with a serious look. "Winry always looked forward to seeing Callahan when he came in for his appointments. That young man is a charmer, there's no doubt about that. What Callahan _lacks_ is that streak of nobility I see in your eyes. From the moment I saw him, I had a feeling he was a boy accustomed to getting his way. I didn't like him, but Winry did. And he liked _her_ a great deal."

Red flickered across Ed's vision, and he slammed his palm down on the table. "_What did he do to her?_"

"Brother!" Al said hastily, putting a warning hand on his arm. But his grip was just a little too tight, and Ed knew he was far from unaffected. "Mr. Garfiel, Winry called my brother a few days ago. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong, but she was really upset, and we came to Rush Valley to make sure she was okay."

"I see," Garfiel said in understanding. "Boys, I know Winry to be a kind, compassionate girl. But a few days ago Callahan had his last appointment, and I heard from my neighbors that he walked from this store with a bloody nose. Winry has assured me more than once that she is alright, but I'm still very concerned. She has still been...a little lackluster since then. I'm at wit's end on how to bring her out of it, which is why I'm _so_ glad you boys showed up when you did."

"I'm not sure she is," Ed said resentfully, folding his arms across his chest. "Winry wouldn't tell me a damn thing when I talked to her last night. How are we supposed to help her if she won't tell us exactly what happened?"

Garfiel cleared his throat deliberately. "Young man, Winry doesn't need an interrogator. She needs a _friend_."

Ed blinked, looking to Al for confirmation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He means we shouldn't pry," Al told him. "Whatever happened is between Winry and Callahan, and it's not our place to snoop around."

"Of _course_ it's our place—!"

"It's _her_ decision whether to talk to us or not," Al said firmly. "All we can do is be here for her."

"_That's not good enough!_" Ed insisted. "That guy's got to pay for what he did to her!"

"He didn't _do_ anything to me."

Three heads turned to the stairs where Winry now stood, fully dressed in her mechanic's overalls with her hair bundled up neatly under a bandanna. Winry looked around at them all with her hands on her hips and her mouth pressed in a thin line, clearly not appreciative of being spoken about behind her back.

"Uh...morning, Winry!" Al said with forced cheer.

Winry relaxed a little bit and nodded at him. "Good morning, Al. Morning, Mr. Garfiel. Ed, I'd like to get your hand fixed now, please."

It sounded more like an order than a request, but Ed wasn't about to argue with that tone. He rose from his chair and followed her into the workshop, but she ignored him even once they were alone, gathering up her tools and setting them by the couch. Ed waited for some kind of acknowledgment, and when none was forthcoming he cleared his throat uncertainly. "Look Winry...I know you said over the phone that you didn't want to talk about what happened..."

"Sit here, Edward," Winry said briskly, motioning him down on the couch beside her. "And there's nothing to talk about. Cal and I had a falling out the night I called you, and he is no longer my customer. I won't see him, and he won't see me. It's as simple as that."

Ed sank onto the couch beside her, appalled at what he was hearing. "You're just going to let him off so easily? Winry, he _hurt_ you!"

Winry's eyes snapped up, heated and unforgiving. "Edward, listen to me. _It's not that big of a deal._ It was...an accident, and you have no reason to believe otherwise."

"Bullshit," Ed said lowly, pulling his automail out of her reach. "You really expect me to buy that, Winry?"

"_Yes_, I do!" Winry said at once, making another grab for his hand. "It's just a split lip, nothing I can't get over in a few days! I got into worse fights when we were kids, remember? And I _won _those fights, too."

"That's not the point! He made you cry!"

"Oh, and _you're_ one to talk about making people cry? _And will you give me your hand already?_"

Winry gripped his steel wrist and held it in her lap with one hand, using the other to start dismantling his broken fingers. Ed bit back all the retorts he longed to fling at her with difficulty, thinking. How could he make her understand that, warped and sick as it sounded, he was supposed to be the _only_ one who could make her cry like that? Winry shouldn't have anything else in her life to cry _about_. Her life here in Rush Valley was supposed to be happy, preserving some semblance of the normalcy from their childhood.

And anyone who disturbed that_...anyone _who thought they could mess with her and get away with it...

Winry set a small pile of screws to the side and yanked his last two fingers out of their sockets with a little more force than necessary. She muttered something under her breath and took the fingers over to the worktable where she laid the parts out on a cloth, turning on a tiny lamp to help her see. Ed leaned back on the couch and watched her fish around for some tool or other, blinking in surprise when he realized what was off about the sight. Not a strand of her hair was visible under the bandanna when, normally, Winry would wear it loose or in a ponytail while she worked.

"Why are you wearing your hair like that?" Ed asked slowly. "All stuffed under the scarf like that?"

Winry touched the bandanna with a shadowed look that Ed didn't like one bit. "I'm just trying out a new look," she mumbled.

Ed tilted his head and frowned, strangely missing the sight of her hair. "You look like an old maid or something..."

He trailed off when Winry went a little pink at the comment. But instead of an outburst, all he got was a faintly annoyed look. Ed rose from the couch and crossed the workshop to lean against the worktable beside her, noting other little discrepancies.

"You're wearing a turtleneck under that thing?" Ed said in disbelief, picking at the sleeve of her overalls. "Aren't you hot?"

"No, I'm _fine,_" Winry ground out. And Ed decided he was really getting tired of that word. Nothing about this was fine! Why was he the only one to see that?

"You've never been bothered with how you look before," Ed stated. "Usually, you wear practically nothing while you work. What made you so shy all of a sudden?"

Winry slammed a screwdriver down on the worktable hard enough to make the whole thing tremble and rounded on him. "Maybe I've decided wearing _practically nothing_ isn't appropriate for my customers! Did you think of _that_, Edward?"

"No one gives a damn what you wear!" Ed retorted hotly. "And even if they did, you'd never let _anyone_ bully you into changing! Why only now? Did _Cal_ tell you he liked seeing you wrapped up like a nun?"

Winry looked ready to hit him by then. Ed fully expected it. But she _didn't_. And that angered him the most. That was_ not_ the Winry Rockbell that he knew and...somewhat liked. What could Cal have possibly said or done to turn bold, self-reliant Winry into this pale shadow?

"Winry?"

Ed looked over his shoulder and saw Al peering at them nervously from behind the door. "Um...there's someone outside asking for you. Mr. Garfiel wouldn't let him in, but he thought you should know..."

Ed's every instinct went on high alert. If he had been a dog, his hackles would have been up. Winry caught his expression and shot him a warning look before brushing past him with her head held high. "Stay _right there,_ Ed! I mean it!"

Ed poked his head out of the workshop and watched carefully as she approached the front of the store where Garfiel stood in the doorway, looking quite grim and intimidating even with the hairnet. Winry whispered something to him and then walked outside, shutting the door behind her.

"You're letting her go out there alone?" Ed demanded, marching up to Garfiel. "What's the matter with you?"

"Winry can handle herself just fine," Garfiel said decisively, though he didn't sound at all confident. "She doesn't need us to defend her."

"The hell she doesn't," Ed growled and shoved past him to push the door open, ignoring both Al and Garfiel's feeble attempts to hold him back. Winry turned to him with an affronted look, but Ed's attention was taken up by the young man behind her, leaning up against the store with a large bag slung casually over his shoulder. Ed sized him up, disliking everything he saw from the wavy blond hair with a hint of red to the hazel eyes to the disdainful twist to his mouth. All three of which were at least several inches higher than the top of Ed's head. Strike one against him.

The only good thing about the picture was the livid purple bruise splashed across the left side of the guy's nose. It spread to the inside corner of his eye, and Ed hoped it was giving him a splitting headache.

"Ed, I told you to wait inside!" Winry snapped at him.

"Yeah, kid," the youth said carelessly. "This is grown-ups business. Get going."

"Shut your mouth," Ed barked, earning a raised eyebrow from the youth. "You're the one who's got no right to be here! Winry said your name was Cal, right?"

Cal pushed himself off the wall, looking between Ed and Winry in bemusement. "Don't tell me this is your boyfriend, Winry," he chuckled. "He's puny!"

"He's _not_," Winry said firmly. "He's...a customer."

Ed tore his eyes away from Cal, taken aback by her assertion. _Just_ a customer? Not 'friend'? Not 'Edward Elric'? Not 'the guy who's gonna kick your ass'? Winry didn't look in his direction, preferring to face Cal head on, but Ed didn't like the way her head was tilted slightly down in deference. No, he didn't like that at _all_.

_Strike two,_ Ed thought, fuming. _One more and I'm breaking his jaw..._

Winry gripped his arm, trying to steer him back to the shop. "Ed, _go back inside_."

Ed jerked his arm free. "I'll go when _he _does."

"Take it easy, kid," Cal said glibly. "I just came to return something, that's all."

Cal swung the bag off his shoulder and held it out to Winry, who took it carefully and peeked inside. She breathed in sharply and met Cal's eyes over the top of the bag in astonishment.

"Parting gift," Cal said with a careless grin. "I decided your work wasn't for me after all and went back to my old model. Maybe you can use that for scrap metal."

Winry opened the top of the bag, and they were treated to the sight of an automail hand. A right arm from the shoulder down, Ed realized, not all that different from his own. His attention shot to Cal's right hand. He was wearing long sleeves and had kept his hand hidden in his pocket, but now Cal brought it out and displayed the dull metal of an arm clearly inferior to Winry's work.

"Scrap metal?" Ed hissed, meeting Cal's haughty look with a hateful one of his own. "_This _is how you treat the arm she spent an entire month building for you? As _scrap metal?_"

"Ed, don't," Winry murmured, cradling the bag close to her chest and staring resolutely at the ground. "It's okay, I don't care. Really, I don't."

"How can you _not_ care—?"

"I just don't!" Winry said sharply. "In fact...I'm _glad_ Cal took the time to return it rather than throwing it away. So _thank you_, Cal."

Cal accepted her gratitude with a nod and a smile that looked more like a leer. "You're welcome, Winry. I'll get going now. Wouldn't want to keep your _customer _waiting."

And with that he sauntered off down the street. Ed actually took a few steps after him, wanting nothing more than to grind his face into the dirt at Winry's feet, make him worship the ground she walked on. But...but damn it all, Al was _right_. Interfering just to throw a few punches wouldn't be worth Winry's animosity. And, much as Ed hated to admit it, he still didn't know anything for sure. None of it was adding up. Winry should be _angry _at Cal, shouldn't she? She should want to bash his skull in with his own automail, right? And yet she wasn't acting that way.

Was Ed wrong? For all he knew, he might be. Maybe Cal and Winry really_ did_ have a simple falling out and he was reading too much into this whole thing. But even so, that still didn't explain Cal's bruise. And Winry's lip. Those kinds of injuries didn't come from a simple 'falling out'. The more Ed saw, the more certain he was that something had _happened _here, something _bad_.

Down the street, Cal cast a parting word over his shoulder. "By the way, Winry, that style really works for you. It's about time you let people know how frigid you are."

Every bit of color drained from Winry's cheeks at those words, and she flung Cal's automail at the ground so hard that little parts broke off and scattered all over the road. "_Damn you!_"

"Winry!" Ed stammered, startled both by the outburst and by her complete disregard to the state of the automail. Garfiel and Al both came out of the shop and surrounded her, offering consoling words, but Winry pulled away from them all. She covered her face with both hands, shoulders trembling as she struggled to compose herself.

"It's okay," Winry rasped. "I-I'm okay. I'm fine, _really_..."

"Now, Winry," Garfiel said comfortingly. "You just put that boy right out of your head..."

"I already have," Winry interrupted, wiping her eyes quickly and giving them all a fragile smile. "I have some other work to get done. I'll finish your hand later, okay Ed?"

Winry retreated into Garfiel's shop before anyone could stop her, leaving the three of them out on the street. Ed dropped his gaze to the broken automail in a state of numb shock. He crouched down to gather up the broken pieces, being careful not to miss a single nut or bolt. Garfiel and Al knelt down to help, and the latter looked at Ed sadly. "What are we going to do, Brother?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," Ed said murderously. "I'm going after that son of a bitch, and I'll make him _beg _for her forgiveness. I don't care who his dad is or how much money he has. _No one_ disrespects Winry's automail and gets away with it."

"Says the guy who disrespects it all the time?" Al said wryly.

Ed smiled a little, glancing at the shop. "Why do you think I let her beat me to a pulp every time I break it?"


	4. Victim

_A.N. Wow, you guys really hate Cal, huh? That's freaking AWESOME! He's going to be around for quite awhile before he gets beaten down, so brace yourself and get ready to do some hating.  
_

Chapter Four - Victim

Winry seemed determined to remain ensconced in her shop for the rest of the day. Even the few customers she was scheduled to meet with had to settle for Garfiel's work instead of hers. Garfiel and Al took turns knocking on the door to try and get her to talk to them, only to be turned away by terse, dismissive words. Winry wouldn't even come out to eat with them at lunch.

As for Ed...he had other things on his mind.

"Oh, come _on!_" Ed bellowed. He slammed his hands down on the table hard enough to make the plates of sandwiches tremble. "You're telling me you've got _no fucking clue_ where Cal goes when he's not here? There's got to be _something_ you can tell me!"

Garfiel wiped his mouth with a napkin daintily. "Even if I knew where he went in his spare time, I wouldn't tell you, young man."

"Why not?"

"Winry wouldn't want me to," Garfiel replied. "Do you really think she would be happy about you getting into a fight with Callahan? Oh, don't give me that look, that's _exactly _what you're planning!"

"So what if it is?" Ed groused. "How can you keep defending him? He deserves to get his face smashed in!"

"Be that as it may," Garfiel said evenly, "what makes you think that would accomplish anything? Anyone who goes through automail surgery possesses both the strength and the will to withstand an incredible amount of pain and overcome it. What are a few bruises to someone like that? Think of how _you_ would react if someone beat you black and blue just to prove a point. Would _you_ change your ways? I think not."

He was right. Mostly. But _Ed _wasn't going to be the one to admit it. "A few bruises are better than no punishment at all," he retorted. "At least tell me where he lives! I'm not wasting my time running all over Rush Valley without some kind of lead."

"Then you won't be running anywhere at all," Garfiel said with finality.

Ed threw up his hands and dropped back into his chair with his arms crossed. In _temporary _defeat, he told himself. There were plenty of other people in this town. At least _one _had to be willing to step up and tell him what he wanted to know.

"Brother," Al said, glancing at the workshop. "I think we should just focus on Winry for now. I know she kept telling us that she was fine, but..."

"Yeah," Ed muttered. "She's only pretending to be okay with this. Whatever that guy did really got to her. Which is _why_..."

"I'm a pacifist, young man," Garfiel said blandly. "Do look elsewhere if you want permission to be violent."

Ed cast an appealing look at Al, who shrugged in a most unhelpful fashion. And, of course, the plain door of the workshop offered no advice whatsoever. Ed reached across the table and snagged two of the biggest sandwiches in his hand before shoving his chair back and standing up. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back."

Two sets of eyes watched him in disapproval, but neither Al nor Garfiel made any attempt to stop him as he breezed out of the store. Ed shoveled the sandwiches into his mouth as he wandered off down the street, bouncing ideas around in his mind as he tried to work out where to start. But his train of thought was broken almost immediately when the first automail engineer spotted his exposed finger sockets and tried to flag him down. Ed barked something rude and kept moving, but the back of his neck prickled when he sensed more eyes on him, heard more eager shouts. And it only got worse as he wandered into Rush Valley's busier sections. Even stuffing his hand in his pocket didn't do anything to keep them at bay because his shirt was sleeveless.

Within half an hour, Ed was cursing himself for not thinking to wear his coat over his arm, heat be damned. There was a reason this place was known as the Boom Town of the Broken Down. No one could afford to keep a respectful distance from potential customers knowing their rivals were a mere five steps in any direction. And now that the morning had passed into the afternoon, it was prime time for the hyenas to be on the prowl.

"Nice automail, kid! You don't mind if I take a closer look, do you?"

"Hey, slow down, don't be a stranger! You look like you could use some premium polish!"

"Is that Miss Rockbell's work? You're one lucky guy!"

Ed smirked when Winry's name reached his ears and gulped down the last of his lunch. It was incredible how quickly she had made a name for herself here. In Resembool, she and Granny hadn't had anyone else to compete with, but having her work appreciated in a place like _this _only reaffirmed what Ed already knew. Winry was _just_ _that good _when it came to automail.

If only _some people_ could appreciate that a little more.

"If I were a spoiled, heartless jerk, where would I be?" Ed mused aloud. He hadn't had any luck with the locals. They were so fixated on automail and everything related that he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Ed doubted he would have any luck until he left this section of the city entirely. He craned to see over the people crowded around him and grumbled to himself when he heard an ominous click of wheels coming up behind him. He sidled sideways to let the rollerblader pass him by.

But whoever it was only changed direction, and Ed yelped when they passed close enough for the wind from their passing to make his braid whip around. A dark-skinned hand snuck around his waistband, snatching his silver watch right out of his pocket.

"_Hey!_" Ed howled. He clapped and transmuted a wall across the street to block their escape, causing the people nearby to scatter in panic. "Give that _back_, you dirty thief!"

The thief skidded to keep from running into the wall and pirouetted to face him, taking the time to strike a pose on her metallic rollerblades. Paninya laughed at the look on his face, twirling the watch by its chain. "Just checking your reflexes! It's a good thing I've got a new trade, or I'd have stripped this town to nothing by now!"

Ed grabbed his watch and stuffed it back in his pocket. He was _not _in the mood for Paninya's special brand of cheerful. "Should have figured you'd be in on this blading thing too," he huffed.

"Anything that gives me a chance to show of Dominic's work," Paninya said proudly. She pulled her pantleg up to give him a better look at her rollerblades, which were actually very different from anything he'd seen so far. Instead of a boot, they were plates of metal shaped to cradle the soles of her automail feet and held in place by very tough-looking leather straps. The four wheels all lined up on the bottom were scuffed and worn from use.

"I don't have to worry so much about twisting an ankle if I fall down, see?" Paninya said wisely, spinning the wheels. "And I wanted something lighter that wouldn't throw me off balance. These work great for street racing!"

Ed gave the tough wheels a rap with his knuckle, impressed despite himself. "Did Dominic make these?"

Paninya shook her head with a fond smile. "Dominic is refusing to make _any _rollerblades. It took me a week of shameless begging, but eventually he hashed out a basic design for me on paper, going on and _on_ the whole time about how he didn't give me legs just so I could get them torn off again! Um...are you gonna fix the street? Those people look agitated."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there," Ed said loudly and deconstructed the wall with a single clap. Friends who had gotten briefly separated met up again in relief, and none were looking very disposed toward him at the moment.

"So, don't tell me," Ed sighed as he set off again with Paninya skating lazy circles around him. "Are you also taking part in that race thing that's coming up?"

"Oh, _hell_ yeah!" Paninya exclaimed, pumping the air with her fist. "You don't think I'd skip it after tearing up the preliminary courses, do you? I've been practicing night and day to get ready for it. It's too bad you weren't here in time to sign up. The roster for the final race is already set, they won't take any last minute additions."

"Yeah, I'm really crying over that," Ed said sardonically. "Just whose idea was it to make a competition out of this anyway?"

"Some engineers in collaboration with the town council," Paninya told him. "My guess is that it would have happened on its own anyway. At least this way they can let us have our fun in an orderly fashion. Plus, it's good for the economy. People watching the races will want to buy rollerblades of their own, not to mention all the bets being made, the food and drink vendors setting up on the day of the race..."

"...and the mechanics and doctors that'll be needed to deal with the aftermath."

"That too."

"So, why'd you enter the race?" Ed asked curiously. "What do you get out of it if you win?"

Paninya casually rolled in front of him, somehow managing to skate _backwards _without much difficulty. "Bragging rights for at least a year, since they're thinking of making this an annual thing. And a pair of custom rollerblades, courtesy of one of the engineers in town. _And_ there's a cash prize too! That's what I'm going for! With that, I could pay off at least a third of what I owe Dominic."

Ed snorted. "Good luck getting him to take it."

Paninya grabbed his hand and dragged him behind her, forcing him to run just to keep up. "Come on, come watch some of us practice! I bet I can get one of my friends to let you borrow a spare pair of skates!"

"I only risk my neck where it matters, thank you," Ed retorted, annoyed when he couldn't free himself from her grip. "I was a disaster at ice skating as a kid, and I don't think this would be any different."

"Trust me, this is _nothing _like ice skating!" Paninya called over her shoulder. "The ground is more stable, and you're a lot less limited in where you can go. I honestly thought you'd be jumping at the chance to try it out! Come _on_, you're so slow!"

She hauled him down a side street between two shops, and Ed blinked in surprise when they emerged onto a large courtyard that many of the shops backed up to. No, it was a _series _of courtyards connected by alleyways. Benches and fountains and the like suggested people frequented these areas often, and Ed could see why. They were only a few buildings away from the main street where all the automail shops were, but it was already much quieter.

At least it would have been if not for the people. The place was _packed _with teenagers and young adults, and the only thing they had in common was that not one of them lacked wheels. They were gathered into little cliques and groups all over the place, some performing tricks to impress their friends, some simply hanging around.

"Blade Central!" Paninya announced proudly, spreading her arms to take it all in.

"Fascinating," Ed muttered under his breath, already looking for an escape route.

"Well, well...if it isn't the customer."

All thoughts of escape flew from his mind at those snide words, and Ed spun around. Perhaps it was a good thing his automail was partly dismantled. He couldn't deliver a good, solid punch with only three fingers, and that was the only thing that held him back from knocking Cal on his ass right at that moment. Cal glided over on some shiny wheels of his own, putting his head neatly a foot above Ed's, and surveyed both him and Paninya with mild interest.

"What do you know," Ed said through gritted teeth, hands fisting at his sides. "I was just looking for you. Did you really think you could get away with upsetting Winry like that?"

"What about Winry?" Paninya said, looking a little lost. "Do you two know each other?"

"We have a mutual friend," Cal said coolly.

Ed took two strides forward and seized Cal's collar, jerking him down to his level. "Don't you _dare _call yourself her friend! Not after what you did!"

Abruptly, Cal brought his foot up and kicked Ed's left leg in a way that would have surely busted his kneecap had it not been made of automail. The suddenness of the hit was enough to make Ed back up a pace or two, and Cal eyed his leg in surprise. "The leg too, huh?"

"Hey, _hey!_" Paninya cried in alarm, moving between them. "Let's just calm down for a minute! Ed, _what_ is going on?"

"I'll tell you what!" Ed shouted. He pointed at Cal in condemnation. "This _bastard_ hurt Winry!"

"And she almost broke my nose," Cal replied at once, jerking a thumb at his face. "What of it? Are you supposed to be her champion?"

"I'm here as her friend, you _asshole_," Ed snarled furiously. "Winry doesn't deserve to be treated like that!"

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," Cal said with a shrug, crossing his arms. "Just what did that girl say I did to her?"

Here, Ed faltered, and Cal cast him a slow grin when he couldn't come up with an answer. "She hasn't told you anything," he laughed. "Not a damn thing!"

"I don't need her to," Ed snapped. "I already know who's at fault!"

"Are you sure about that?" Cal shot back. "Maybe I'm _not _the one to blame, did you think of that? For all you know, _she _was the one who struck first."

Ed's throat closed as Paninya spoke up in anger. "What are you talking about? How _dare_ you, Winry wouldn't do something like that!"

But Cal didn't pay any attention to her, relishing every flicker of emotion on Ed's face. "It was my last appointment," he said slowly. "The arm was already installed and the bill yet to be settled. What if Miss Rockbell suggested a figure much higher than we agreed on? And what if she wouldn't allow me to leave until I paid? She's an automail mechanic, certainly no daisy. I was _very _afraid for my safety when she began to get violent, and I was forced to do what I could to get away. I even decided to return the arm she built for me so there were no hard feelings."

Cal paused for dramatic effect, or maybe to wait for Ed to protest. But Ed couldn't say anything. He was numb, frozen by the realization that he was looking at someone who believed wholeheartedly that he could lie his way out of all of it. Someone who thought it was perfectly alright to hurt an innocent girl and walk away with a clear conscience.

"So you see," Cal explained with just the right amount of melancholy, "what happened in that workshop was in no way my fault. You might even say that _I_ was the victim."

When in truth, the victim was Winry. That was what he was implying. But a victim of _what?_ Why had Cal hurt her? Why was Winry so afraid to stand up to him? Why wouldn't she let Ed stand up for her? Why, why, _why_...

_Why had this happened to his mechanic?_

There was no real decision made in his head. Between one breath and the next Ed had tackled Cal and brought him to the ground, smashing his fist into his jaw once, twice. The courtyard was in an uproar, some fleeing the scene while others came to encourage the fight. Ed brought his fist back for another punch, but two people—Cal's friends, he assumed—made a grab for him and wrestled him away. They actually managed to land a few hits on Ed before Paninya's legs came out of _nowhere _and started pummeling them.

Ed spat blood out of his mouth and went for Cal again, but this time the other was ready and dove out of his reach, coming in behind him and kicking his real leg out from underneath him. Ed let his palms hit the ground as he fell and snapped his leg back, catching Cal in the stomach. He doubled over with a wheeze as Ed rose up, and he brought his fist back to deliver a punishing blow to Cal's head. But Cal reacted too fast and caught his wrist mid-blow, using Ed's own momentum to flip him over his shoulder.

Ed twisted hard in the air and just managed to land on his feet. This time, he didn't attack again right away, watching his opponent warily. Cal may not have been military trained, but apparently having a soldier for a father was good enough. He seemed perfectly capable of holding his own in a fight. And, as Garfiel had pointed out, he was taking his own injuries in stride, looking down on Ed with every ounce of hubris intact.

"Are you done already?" Cal taunted, a grin splitting his face. He was _enjoying _this, taking pleasure in Ed's rage and even in the fight itself because he had absolutely _nothing _riding on the outcome. It would take a lot more than a beating to make him regret hurting Winry, which was kind of the whole point.

An ominous whirring noise came from off to the side, and Ed looked to see Cal's buddies in a heap on the ground and a very angry Paninya carefully aiming the cannon built into her left leg at their leader. Cal eyed the cannon briefly, and he let his defensive stance drop, abandoning the fight without a second thought.

"I'm far from done," Ed proclaimed, also backing off. "I'm not letting this go until I make you pay for hurting her! I'll take you on anytime, anywhere!"

Cal turned his head, looking off into the rocky hills above Rush Valley thoughtfully. "Anytime, anywhere, huh?" he murmured. "Okay, then. Tomorrow, at the top of the hill where the course for the final street race starts. _She _knows where it is. And bring some rollerblades."

"Rollerblades?" Ed repeated, perplexed.

Cal nodded deliberately. "I don't care if you don't know how to street race, it's nothing you can't learn with a little practice. Come early in the morning. That's when there's the least amount of people on the course. You and I will have our own private race and see who comes out on top."

"And why should I do that?" Ed scoffed. "Why should I beat you in some race when I could lay you out right here and now? I'm here for Winry, I don't need to prove anything to you!"

"Then that's where we're different," Cal said quietly. "The challenge is all I need. But if you need a little goading, I can always tell you more about what happened between me and Winry in that workshop."

The way he said it made Ed's blood run cold. As if...as if he had already _won_ somehow. As if defeating Ed in a race would only be a minimalist victory.

_He's bluffing,_ Ed told himself desperately. _He's just making stuff up to provoke you. Look at that bruise! Winry defended herself! He didn't lay a hand on her, he DIDN'T—!_

But...oh God, but if he _had_...

"You're on," Ed snapped without really thinking about it. "And you'd better pray I let you make it to the finish line in one piece."

"Same goes for you," Cal returned in kind. "I didn't catch your name, kid."

Looking at him then, Ed really considered bringing out his watch and announcing his full title. Cal, at least, would be aware of what the rank meant and what kind of power he held. But in the end he decided against it. The State had no place in this. It was just him and Cal.

And Winry.

"Edward Elric," Ed said curtly. "Keep it in mind."

"Tomorrow morning," Cal reminded him and walked away—well, _rolled_ away—with his injured friends stumbling after him. None of them seemed quite as amiable about getting beaten by a girl and a guy with only four real limbs between them. The rest of their audience began drifting off once they realized the fight was over, muttering to each other and staring at Ed when they thought he wasn't looking.

Paninya frowned at their retreating backs and turned to Ed. "What the _hell_ was that all about?"

Ed grabbed her elbow. "I'll tell you while you're teaching me how to rollerblade."

* * *

_A.N. Aaaaand the plot thickens! I really think that all I'm doing now is catering to my inner fangirl. Half of this story was born out of a simple desire to see Ed wearing rollerblades. Squee!_


	5. Ache

_A.N. Guess what? My life is awesome! I got some extremely good news today, and I felt just excited and generous enough to post an early chapter! It's a bit short and there might be grammar issues I'm missing this late at night, but enjoy it!_

Chapter Five - Ache

Cal's automail was in the dumpster when Ed returned to Garfiel's shop that evening.

He was surprised he saw it. Only a glimmer of reflected light caught his eye and drew him into the alley between Garfiel's and the shop next door. The steel hand was the only visible portion, hanging over the edge of the dumpster. Ed reached in and plucked the automail out by the wrist, setting down the rollerblades Paninya had lent him so he could examine it more closely. There was nothing visibly wrong with it, only some surface damage from when Winry had thrown it on the ground. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed with some polish and replacement of broken parts. He and Al had scoured the street for every little broken screw and brought it all inside for her.

And Winry had thrown it out. Not fixed it, not saved it, not even taken it apart for scrap metal as Cal so kindly suggested. She had simply abandoned it.

Ed slung the arm over his shoulder, picked up his rollerblades and circled back around to the front door, elbowing the door open with a scowl on his face. Al and Winry were in the back of the shop setting the table for dinner, and his brother cried out in shock when Ed walked in. "Brother, what _happened _to you?"

Ed winced. Paninya had drilled him in street racing all afternoon and well into the evening. The better part of that time had been spent simply learning to keep his balance on the damn rollerblades. Evidently, it showed. His clothes could only take so many collisions with the ground before they gave out, and then it had been his own skin that suffered. There was no telling how much of his blood would have been visible if he hadn't been wearing black.

Winry looked around at Al's exclamation, and Ed was relieved to see her hair had returned to its usual ponytail, though she still wore her overalls zipped up to her neck. She took one look at him and jumped to her feet, mouth falling open in horror. Before she could launch into a lecture, Ed plunked Cal's automail down on the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle. "Why was this in the garbage?" he asked lowly.

Winry's eyes flicked down to the automail, mouth tight. "I...didn't want it."

"Because it was attached to that jackass?" Ed demanded. "It's not _his _arm anymore, it's _yours_. And nothing you make belongs in a dumpster."

With that, Ed flung the rollerblades into a corner and dropped into a chair, attacking the platters of food with gusto. He noted with satisfaction that Winry was looking between the rollerblades and him—or rather, his bruises and torn clothing—in dawning comprehension. Good. Let her believe he had forgotten all about Cal in favor of learning how to street race. The last thing Ed needed was her trying to talk him out of his plans for tomorrow.

"Brother?" Al asked, picking up the skates and examining them. "Why do you have these? I thought you didn't like rollerblades…"

"Paninya caught up to me and decided me not knowing how to street race was a crime," Ed muttered, hoping his casual demeanor would fool the other two into thinking he looked worse than he felt. The truth was that he _ached_. "That girl is _nuts._ You know she's actually planning on being in that race that's coming up? She wants the cash to pay off Dominic for her automail."

"Really?" Al said with interest. "Maybe we should stay for a little longer and watch her race. I bet she could use the support!"

Winry slowly sat down as well, still frowning, but mercifully calm. "How are the skates I made her? Are they holding up?"

Ed choked on some water and stared at Winry in amazement that was not entirely feigned. "_You_ made those?" he gasped. "No way, those things are awesome!"

Winry flushed a little in pleasure at his compliment and immediately launched into a description of how Paninya had come to her with the design from Dominic and all the ways she had adjusted the final product to match Paninya's needs. Eventually, the conversation rolled over into how Dominic and his family were doing up in the mountains and how the child that Winry had helped deliver was already learning the baby version of common automail terms. Ed commented loudly on how it wouldn't be long before he was throwing wrenches, which earned him a kick under the table.

By silent consent, Ed and Al both let her prattle on about her life in Rush Valley. It was so _good_ to hear Winry just being herself again, chattering without pause until they had to remind her to breath or eat. For Ed, this was a major improvement over her mood from this morning.

But even so, the race with Cal hovered in the back of his mind all throughout dinner. Ed occasionally found himself zoning out as he stared at the rollerblades, going over all the things he had done wrong and how to improve them before the race tomorrow...

It was during one of these bouts of distracted musing that Ed noticed Winry watching him with an odd look. She followed his line of sight to the rollerblades, and the suspicion increased tenfold. But just when she seemed about to say something, the front door opened and Garfiel came in burdened with boxes. "I'm back! Alphonse, would you be a dear and help me with these? They're quite heavy."

Al quickly went to his aid, and right away Ed cleared his throat and stood, not keen on being left alone with a suspicious Winry. "I'm gonna go wash up some," he announced. "If I'm not back by morning, assume I drowned and start planning a funeral."

"Sure thing, Brother," Al snickered.

"The bathroom is upstairs to the left!" Garfiel added. "Don't use all the hot water!"

Ed retreated upstairs and found the bathroom with little difficulty. It was small, but decent, with a little metal tub against the far wall that doubled as a shower. For now, Ed pushed the curtain aside and filled up the tub with hot water. A good, long soak was just what he needed to loosen his muscles. He couldn't afford to be stiff tomorrow when he met Cal in the morning for the race.

And, of course, just _thinking_ about the race was enough to make all his scrapes and bruises throb in unison. When the tub was filled, Ed stripped to nothing and cringed at what he saw in the mirror. The skin of his right shin and left arm was scraped raw from all the times he had fallen down. The worst of them were crusted over with dried blood and made his clothes stick to him. His ribs and flesh knee were black and blue from all the times he tumbled to the ground, and Ed didn't even want to _think _about the state of his butt, which had taken the brunt of the beating.

_I got my ass handed to me by a pair of fucking rollerblades,_ Ed thought in vexation. But at least he'd only had Paninya as an audience. He couldn't even imagine what Al and Winry would have said if they'd seen him slipping and sliding all over the place, smacking into buildings and people right and left. Forget winning the race, he would be lucky to finish it.

Not that low odds had ever stopped him before. If anything, he always did better when the cards were stacked against him.

Ed braced his hands on the rim of the tub and cautiously lowered himself into the steaming water, just barely repressing a very unmanly moan of contentment. Little clouds of dirt and salt and pinkish blood floated away from him, and he went right to work scrubbing off the gravel that had _somehow _worked its way into every little nook and cranny of skin when Ed wasn't looking. His automail had come off lightly with only a few scratches, but he still planned to take a closer look later to make sure nothing had gotten in the joints—

_Bang!_

Ed jumped a foot in the air when the bathroom door burst open, sloshing water all over the floor, and he made a wild grab for the shower curtain when he realized just _who _had barged in on him. "_Winry!_ What the hell—!"

"That's what I should be asking you!" Winry cried, yanking the door shut behind her and planting her hands on her hips. "Do you really think you're _that_ good of a liar, Edward Elric?"

Ed rose out of the water, keeping the curtain wrapped tightly around his lower half and feeling very much on the defensive. "Winry, get _out_ of here!" he whined. "Bathroom! Privacy!"

"Oh, please! Like I haven't seen your body before!"

"At least give me some pants or something before you yell at me!"

A towel smacked him in the face, and Ed retreated behind the shower curtain so he could tie it around his waist, cursing under his breath. Once he was decent, he shoved the curtain aside and stepped out of the tub. "Okay, just what did I do this time?"

"It's not what you did, it's what you're _going_ to do!" Winry snapped. "You're learning how to rollerblade so you can beat Cal in that street racing competition, aren't you?"

It was close enough to the truth that Ed didn't know _what _to say at first. And Winry took his silence as a confession. She poked him in the chest, livid. "I can't _believe_ you, Ed! I just _can't_—and after I _told_ you that I didn't need your protection! What part of that don't you understand?"

"What I don't understand," Ed said lowly, "is why I'm the only one who's actually trying to do something about that arrogant bastard. The reason he thinks he can get away with hurting other people is because no one is willing to stop him! Why _shouldn't_ I knock him down a few notches?"

"So this is all about your pride, is that it?" Winry said scathingly. "It's not enough to just let things go, oh _no_, you have to _prove_ that you're the better man!"

Ed seized her arms, wishing he could shake some sense into her. "Winry, I'm not going to let you talk me out of this—!"

His head snapped sideways when Winry's fist collided with his cheek. Ed stepped back, stunned by the blow. But from the dazed look Winry was giving him, the punch had been entirely instinctive, a knee-jerk reaction and not necessarily directed at him.

Ed swallowed, feeling sick. _Did Cal grab her like that...?_

Winry stepped closer to him looking absolutely wretched, hand held out as though to cup his face. But her fingers stopped inches from his chin and instead wandered down his left arm, hovering over the mottled skin.

"Look at you," Winry whispered, breath hitching in a way that made Ed just want to slink into a corner somewhere. "You're all bruised and banged up. And this is just from learning how to rollerblade. What would you do in a real street race, huh? You don't know how dangerous those races can get! Cal and his friends have been the undisputed winners of the preliminary rounds, they've been at it for _months_. What'll I do if you get hurt racing him?"

"What makes you think I'll let that happen?" Ed said quietly. "Don't you think I can win against him?"

"I...I don't know," Winry faltered, hugging herself. "But I don't want to see you hurt trying. Ed, promise me! Promise me you won't try to enter that race! _Promise_ me you won't try to take him on like that!"

And there were those damn eyes again. The ones that he couldn't lie to, and at the same time couldn't tell the truth to. There was only one answer for those piercing blue bullets.

"I can't," Ed said softly. "I can't make that promise. I'm sorry."

Winry held his gaze, as if by simply waiting him out she could make him change his mind. Finally, she bowed her head without a word and turned to leave. Ed wanted to stop her, but no words would come to him as he watched her walk down the hall and vanish into her own room. There were only questions, and more questions. Why wouldn't Winry let him fight for her sake? What wasn't she telling him?

_If you need a little goading, I can always tell you more... _

"Damn it," Ed hissed, gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was going to drive himself crazy if he allowed his mind to go in circles like this. Ed closed the door again, ditched the towel and went back to his interrupted bath, sinking up to his chin in the water with his arms hanging over the sides.

Winry...Callahan...the race...he hadn't known Cal was also signed up for the competition. Truthfully, Ed actually liked Winry's idea of beating him in the official race with all of Rush Valley as the audience. Humiliation on _that_ scale would take a long, long time to get over. But, as Paninya had said, it was too late to sign his name up now. Ed would have to settle for outracing the jerk in private and hoping the shame of being shown up by a novice would poke a hole in that swollen head.

But _oh_, it would have been _sweet..._

Ed heard hollow footsteps coming up the stairs, and he scowled when the bathroom door creaked open once again. "Doesn't anyone understand the concept of privacy anymore?"

"I overheard you and Winry," Al said without preamble, shutting the door behind him. "Are you really going to race against Callahan? Is that why you had the rollerblades?"

"Well, since punching him didn't do much..."

"You _punched_ him?"

"It's not like anyone _else_ was stepping up to the plate," Ed griped with a pointed look at his brother.

"_I_ thought it might be better if one of us stayed and talked to Winry," Al said calmly, not even phased in the slightest.

Ed yanked the tie out of his braid and dunked his hair under the water. "And did you? Talk to her, I mean."

"A little," Al admitted. When Ed shot him a look, he shook his head quickly. "Oh, not about _that_. She just told me about how she met Cal and how he was before...you know. Before. I guess Winry thought he was a really nice person at first. He never said a bad thing against her until recently. I can't even believe the guy we saw today is the same person she was telling me about. He was so...so..."

"I know," Ed muttered, recognizing the undercurrent of anger in Al's voice and sympathizing.

"Brother," Al said hesitantly. "What do you think actually happened between them? I mean, it's kind of obvious there was a fight, and I was thinking if we could get Winry to talk about it to some kind of authority..."

"No," Ed said at once. "Cal got hurt too, remember? If Winry makes an accusation, Cal flat out threatened to make it out like she was the one who started it. On top of that, his father is in the military."

"But you're in the military too!"

"And Cal lives here and knows the people," Ed countered harshly. "He's probably got all kinds of friends and acquaintances who can account for his character and weasel him out of any sort of punishment. This can't be settled with the law."

"Then what makes you think it can be settled with a race?"

Ed tipped his head back and let it rest on the rim of the tub, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Because Cal was the one who suggested the race in the first place. It's his territory, a way he can place himself ahead of everyone else. You remember what that was like, Al? When alchemy was our whole world and mastery of it made us better than the ordinary people?"

Al didn't answer him, but Ed had a feeling his brother remembered that time just as well as he did. Back then, before their mother died and before the transmutation and the State, nothing else had mattered except getting _better_. Sure, it was partly out of a wish to help others, but their mother's praise had been their driving force. It was the same for Cal, though the praise he sought was that of the masses. Even his 'friends' were likely just another boost to his ego and not friends at all.

And now he was using whatever happened with Winry as part of that, lording it over both her and Ed like it was his god-given right. Ed would never forgive someone like that.

"I'll beat him," Ed vowed softly. "I have to."

Al looked at him, but whatever he was going to say went unspoken. He turned and opened the door to leave. "Don't stay in here too long. Mr. Garfiel wants to take a bath next."

"...oh _thanks_, Al. I _really _needed that mental image."


	6. Speed

Chapter Six - Speed

Ed woke up unreasonably early the next morning. He _had _to wake up. Winry turned up in the workshop a few minutes before sunrise and kicked him off the couch with many impatient huffs and growls, shutting the door behind his stumbling, half-asleep form with a _snap_. He let it go with only a few muttered complaints. Morning was not a good time for either of them, and the last thing he needed was another shouting match. Left with nothing better to do, Ed scarfed down some breakfast and slung his rollerblades over his shoulder, tossing out a vague excuse to Al about more practice. Al made no comment, but his disapproval was clear in his clipped farewell.

Cal hadn't given Ed a specific time for the race, but Paninya was already waiting at Blade Central where they had agreed to meet up. Ed expected the race course to be somewhere in town, but she led him to a paved road that zigzagged its way through the rocky hills all around the valley, going back and forth and up and up and _up_ until the town was nothing more than a pile of toy blocks below them. The sun was well above the horizon and Ed's flesh leg burning from exertion by the time they made it to the starting line at the top of the highest cliff in the valley where the wind blew coldest and the air was so thin it left him gasping.

"Come on, this is nothing!" Paninya laughed, slapping him on the back. "Look, you don't see any of _them_ hacking their lungs out!"

Ed followed her gaze to some other youths who had decided to take advantage of the empty course for some early morning runs of their own. They were a lively bunch, chattering away as they strapped on their skates and stretched their muscles, and even as he watched a pair of them took off down the road. Ed peered over the edge of the cliff to watch them go, two dark blobs flying down an incline that might as well have been vertical at a speed that no mere human was meant to achieve on their own. Winry's worry really wasn't unfounded. One wrong move on _this _course could end in disaster. Ed was just as likely to finish this race as to take a tumble over the side of the road and down into the gorge where death waited in the form of a rushing river.

Ed ordered his fluttering heart to slow the hell down and studied the way the racers held their bodies, arms tucked in and legs and back bent low on the straight stretches, leaning hard into the curves. There was no time left for practice, no room for doubt. He had to get this right, _now_.

"Just try not to overdo it, okay?" Paninya warned him. "This road is so steep that there won't be a whole lot of strategy going on. You just have to stay upright and take the turns without going off the edge. There's a difference between fast and _too _fast, so stay about even with Cal until you get a chance to pull ahead. The final race for the competition is only the day after tomorrow, so he'll be taking it easy. Use that to your advantage."

Her words were perfectly even and controlled, but there was still a trace of vehemence in Paninya's voice. She had been just as outraged as Ed expected when he told her the situation with Cal and Winry as far as he knew it. What Ed had _not_ expected was her unsettling suggestion that they follow Cal home and do some _very _unpleasant things to him as he slept. Ed still got chills up his spine at the memory of the gleam in her eye, and he added Paninya's name to the mental list of ladies that should never be crossed for _any_ reason.

Paninya knelt in the dirt at the side of the road and sketched out a basic map of the road. "The official course has a second portion that runs through the town, but you and Cal can't go tearing through the streets without hurting someone. You two will only race to the bottom of this road where it enters the town and no further."

"That's a pretty long course," Ed said dubiously as he studied the map, doing his best to commit the route to memory so there wouldn't be any surprises.

"It has to be, considering how fast you'll be going," Paninya assured him. "Believe me, it'll be over before you know it. Just the ride down this road is an adrenaline rush like you've never experienced before."

Ed kicked off his boots and took a seat in the dirt to wrestle the rollerblades on. Paninya finished strapping on her own skates and opened up the pack she had brought with them, passing extra gear to him. They had neglected safety yesterday in favor of giving Ed proper mobility, but now they donned elbow and kneepads and fingerless leather gloves to protect vulnerable joints and skin. Ed caught the padded leather helmet Paninya tossed at him and took another look at the road. And his eyes narrowed when he spotted Cal just cresting the hill. "He's here."

Paninya raised her head and scowled, rising up to balance on her wheels with arms crossed. All of Ed's competitive instincts leapt to the fore as Cal caught sight of them and leisurely strolled in their direction, skates slung over his shoulder and two cronies at his back. All of their rollerblades looked next to new, polished to a shine and expertly crafted. Ed's own secondhand pair was somewhat less than impressive by comparison.

"Well, would you look at the kid," Cal said in mock amazement. "He could almost pass for a novice."

"And you could almost pass for a punching bag," Ed retorted, very much enjoying the effect of the bruises he had left all along Cal's jaw. They spread up over the bridge of his nose and joined with the one Winry had made in a lovely mass of purple and yellow. He hoped she would get a chance to see it.

"Let's just race, Elric," Cal said harshly, throwing his gear to the ground and yanking off his own shoes.

"What are _they _doing?" Ed asked sharply when the other two boys also started donning helmets and skates. "I thought it was only going to be me and you."

"I could ask the same thing about her," Cal replied, nodding at Paninya.

"I'm just here to watch," Paninya said curtly.

"Then so are they," Cal shot back. "They're judges. One to go ahead and wait at the finish line and one to follow behind."

Ed gave the 'judges' a disbelieving look. They seemed cut from the same crop as Cal—moneyed, privileged and loving every minute of it. Every once in awhile one would glance in his direction and grin in utter confidence, like the very idea of Ed holding his own against Cal was ridiculous. Anyone backing Cal had no reason to act in the interest of fairness.

"In that case," Paninya said coolly, clapping Ed's shoulder. "I hope you don't mind if I volunteer to help them judge. You know, in the interest of keeping things _unbiased_."

Cal pulled a face, but in the end he simply shrugged. "By all means."

By the time they were ready to go, the top of the hill was empty of everyone except their little group of five. One of Cal's friends immediately darted off down the course to do whatever he was supposed to do as a judge—or an accomplice. Paninya darted after him right away, which made Ed feel a little better. As long as she was keeping an eye on that one, he would only have Cal and the second judge to deal with.

Cal waited until those two were out of sight then easily glided over to the starting position, looking back expectantly. Ed braced his palms on the ground and clambered to his feet slowly, taking his time so he wouldn't topple over. But there was no hiding the slight wobble to his legs as he rolled his place beside Cal, and Ed longed to wipe that look of smug confidence off his face. Cal couldn't expect him to be any good after only a day! But that was probably the whole point. Ed could see at a glance that Cal was just_ waiting_ for him to back down, now that they were poised on the very brink of the hill.

Something clattered to the road, and Ed glanced sideways to see that Cal had discarded his helmet. He met Cal's eyes incredulously, seeing the challenge written there. Ed's own helmet was still in his hands, hanging by the straps, and he was sorely tempted to loosen his fingers and let it fall.

_What'll I do if you get hurt racing him?_

Ed schooled his expression into one of indifference and jammed his helmet on, tightening the straps so it wouldn't fly off. Cal made a scornful noise, but Ed put it from his mind with the memory of Winry's anxious blue eyes. Unlike this pathetic bastard, Ed knew precisely what blood looked like when it was splattered all over the ground. And if he really messed up, it wasn't all that hard to predict the outcome of a contest between his bare skull and the road. He wouldn't even know what hit him. Just a fall, a flash of pain...and Al and Winry would be attending his funeral.

Did Cal really have no one in his life worth being careful for?

Ed expected a countdown, but Cal's friend merely held up his arm and brought it down in one swift motion. Cal reacted a split second faster than him, and Ed worked his legs furiously to catch up, striving to remember Paninya's instructions from the day before. Right leg, left leg. Right leg, left leg...long, easy strokes...swing his arms to keep the momentum going...

Once the ground began to slope downward, Cal stopped actively skating and bent nearly double as gravity tugged him onward, keeping his feet and legs locked rigidly. Ed leaned forward and imitated the position once he also passed the threshold of no return, fighting every second to stay on his feet. He probably wasn't even going that fast, but his heart was already pounding so hard that his ribs felt bruised. The wind in his ears drowned out everything but the roar of the wheels beneath his feet, and his real leg trembled alarmingly when he reached a speed that rendered the world around him into a blur. Ed's eyes widened. It was too fast, and he couldn't stop, he _couldn't stop_, and if he lost his focus for even a _second_, he would—!

Ed clamped down on the instincts that wanted him to stop and turn away from the danger. He couldn't stop at this speed even if he wanted to, not without crashing. There was no choice but to ride this out to the very end. And with that thought, his mind shifted about five degrees to the left, just as it always did during a fight. Ed was in the race and _not _in the race. He controlled his actions while at the same time pretending he was only watching the danger rather than part of it.

Cal glanced back and gritted his teeth, visibly annoyed that Ed was easily keeping pace with him. There was something to be said for being sma...for having a body that created less air resistance. Even so, Ed would still have to give it his all. He felt every little nick and bump in the road as a powerful jolt through his body that went straight to his bones. His legs and hips ached from the strain of staying in control when the laws of physics were trying to fling him every which way.

Something came up on his left so suddenly that Ed nearly crashed from the surprise alone. He had forgotten all about Cal's friend, but now the guy was crowding up to him, uncomfortably close. Ed looked ahead just in time to see a left turn coming up, and a little part of him panicked at the thought of taking it at this speed. There was no way, just _no way_ he could turn in time!

Just ahead of him, Cal went a little wide before banking hard, taking the turn so tight that he nearly went off the paved portion of the road. That proved it was possible. Ed kept his eyes fixed on the turn and prepared to emulate the maneuver...

...but Cal's friend cut across his path and forced him to go wide. Ed saw the edge of the road coming up and went to his knees fast, letting the kneepads and his right hand take the brunt of the fall. He skidded a little and slowed just enough to stay safely on the road, but he lost precious seconds getting back up to speed again while Cal was already rounding the next bend. Damn it all, he should have known Cal wouldn't even give him a chance to win!

Ed flung himself down the incline recklessly, forcing his unpracticed legs into motion. His entire universe had narrowed to only the stretch of road before him and his two opponents. Ed couldn't even recall the reason for this race, only that he had to _get ahead_, had to be the fastest, the most daring. That wild, untamed voice had no knowledge of fear and pain, only _speed_.

Cal whipped his head to the side when Ed appeared at his shoulder, soaring by on feet that barely seemed to touch the ground anymore. A second turn was coming up, a right turn, and Ed grinned fiercely when he saw a chance to pull ahead by taking the inside curve, this time forcing Cal to go wide and fall behind. He could do it! Once he got far enough ahead there would be no one to stop him—!

"_Ed, the outside! Stay on the outside!_"

He heard the words, but didn't understand them. At least, not until he banked into the turn and hit the gravel spread all over the road. The little rocks scattered every which way, one striking the corner of his eye as more jammed the wheels of his rollerblades. The gods of physics reclaimed him with a vengeance, and Ed pitched forward, arms floundering as his body hung horizontal in the air for one agonizing moment. The adrenaline daze abandoned him, allowing him to contemplate the coming pain with perfect clarity and sick dread.

His right arm was the first to hit the ground, smashing into the asphalt with an ear-splitting shriek and losing half the plating in the process. Ed bounced a little on impact and kept going, rolling down the road so fast that his guts felt like they had been jammed into a centrifuge. It probably looked spectacular, but all Ed could see were flashes of sky and asphalt and his own flailing limbs. Even the pain only registered in tiny bursts as the skin of his forearm was scraped to the bone, his left shoulder dislocated, his helmet cracked right in half, his nose smashed and bleeding.

And then there was no more road beneath him, and for a moment Ed thought he had gone over the cliff. He plummeted down a near-vertical incline so fast that buckets of rocks and dirt were dislodged by his passing and formed a miniature avalanche around him. One of his skates flew off and was left behind almost before he had even registered its absence. A tiny ledge caught him at the last second, saving him from dropping into the gorge below.

Ed lay sprawled out on his back with his feet in the direction of the road, elevated slightly above his body, wondering dazedly if he had really stopped or not. It was hard to tell when his own head was spinning so much—

_Oh fuck, it HURTS!_

Ed groaned minutely when all his bruises made their presence known, throbbing in unison, demanding attention. Every inch of exposed skin was on fire, even the parts that weren't bleeding, and spikes of pain shot from his shoulder. Mercifully, he blacked out for a little bit. Although, maybe it was just his eyes giving out because he had no trouble at all hearing Paninya slide down the hill to him. The sound of her metal rollerblades grating against the dirt made his head pound and blocked his ears to whatever she was trying to say.

"—hear me? Ed, come on—!"

Ed opened his mouth to speak and coughed, spitting out an awful mixture of dirt and blood. His nose was gushing so much that the blood filled his mouth and made his throat burn. He could barely _breathe_, let alone do anything else.

"—just told you to slow him down a little! You fucking _killed_ him, you idiot!"

"He's _not_ dead! One of you, go get a doctor!"

"Hell no, you're on your own! My dad'll kill me if he finds out about this. Let's get out of here!"

Ed squinted over Paninya's shoulder just in time to see Cal and his two friends high-tailing it away from the scene. Then Paninya leaned in close until her face took up his entire field of vision. She unbuckled his helmet and slid it off before turning his head sideways, which eased his breathing somewhat. Ed tried to focus on her face, but his vision was entirely unreliable, flickering in and out in waves as his mind was beckoned toward unconsciousness.

Still, he couldn't help but notice how much her eyes reminded him of Winry's right then, all wide and glassy like that...

"Ed! Ed, listen to me carefully. I'm going for help, okay? Just stay _right here._ Don't even move a muscle until I get back!"

A couple minutes of scrambling were all it took for her to get back to the road and then she was gone. It took Ed's addled mind that long to figure out why she had left, and then the answer seemed obvious. Paninya was strong and all, but there was just no way she could carry him all the way back to Rush Valley. And he was in no condition to even get himself back up to the road, let alone down the mountain.

Ed gulped down what little blood remained in his mouth and closed his eyes. She had said something about getting help, right? He just had to wait.

_Don't wanna wait,_ a whiny part of him said. _Hurts too much..._

Ed sucked in a deep breath and braced his wrecked automail on the ground beneath him. The arm quivered under his weight, but he ignored it and pushed himself upright anyway. Bad idea. An explosion of pain spread outward from his flesh shoulder and the world tilted crazily, sending him right back to the earth in a painful heap.

By the time Ed came around again, the sun had risen a little higher and the blood on his face was crusting over. There were also voices up on the road. Ed blinked sunspots from his eyes and tried to focus on staying awake. He figured he should probably yell for help or something, but his voice just didn't want to work. But at least the footsteps were coming closer. Ed hoped they would spot him. He _really_ didn't want to just lay here in the hot sun all day long.

"Over here, he's down here!"

"Calm down, girl. I'm coming."

Ed cheered a little inside when he heard several people sliding down the hill to crouch beside him, and he turned his head to see who had decided to help him. The first thing he saw was a tool belt, and skewed logic provided him with a likely name for his savior. "Winry...?"

Rough fingers checked his pulse as a harsh, chiseled face scowled down at him. "In your dreams, punk," Dominic rumbled. "I hope that girl takes you out back and whips you for what you've done to your automail."

Ed groaned in misery at the various mental images those words brought up. "Lemme alone, y'damn gearhead..."

"His shoulder," Paninya said faintly. "Is it...broken?"

"Dislocated," Dominic said brusquely and jostled the arm in question, causing Ed to hiss in pain. "And he's lucky it's _only_ dislocated. He'll be fine once I pop it back in."

Pop it back...oh, that did _not _sound pleasant. "Doctor?" Ed whimpered plaintively.

"Better to take care of this now rather than wait for a doctor," Dominic said firmly. "I only know the basics, so it's gonna hurt. A lot. Girl, you hold him for me..."

A pair of hands pressed hard on his chest to pin him down. Ed raised his head to try and see what was happening, but Paninya was in the way. He felt Dominic take hold of his arm and barely had time to take a steadying breath before the engineer forced the bone back into the socket with a painful _craaack_. Ed wanted nothing more than to shriek in agony, but all that he managed was a croak.

"Hate you, old man," Ed gasped, grappling with oblivion for the third time. "Fucking _hate_ you..."

Dominic's response was to wrap an arm around his waist and hoist him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Ed's stomach turned at the sight of the gorge swaying below him, and he wisely shut his eyes until Dominic had managed to climb back up to the road. "My place is closer than the town," he said to Paninya. "I'll take him there for now. Satera should be able to handle the rest without much trouble, but you had better go get his mechanic."

"Are you sure I shouldn't get a doctor, too?" Paninya said anxiously. "What if he has a concussion or something?"

"I'm fairly sure his head is fine," Dominic said shortly. "Wearing a helmet was the only smart thing he did today. Get moving!"

Paninya took off down the road, skating as fast as she could. The mechanic leaned down to scoop up some of the broken plating strewn all over the road, completely ignoring the dazed and bleeding boy on his shoulder. Every dip and turn made Ed's stomach roil violently and he licked his lips. "Think I might be passing out again soon," he said weakly. "Better not install something weird on my automail while I'm out."

"Don't fret," Dominic replied gruffly. "I have no doubt the Rockbell temper breeds true. Your arm and leg are safe from me. I suggest you worry about how that girl will react when she sees you like this."

Ed cringed. There was no getting around it. Winry _would _find out that he had gone directly against her wishes in racing Cal. On top of that, Ed had nothing to show for it. He had _lost_. It didn't even matter that Cal had been putting him at a disadvantage from the beginning. Ed was used to being at a disadvantage and pulling through anyway. This time, he hadn't even managed that much.

"Crap," Ed rasped to no one in particular. "I really lost, didn't I?"

"You sure as hell didn't win."

"I don't suppose you could toss me in the gorge and tell her my body was never found?" Ed joked morbidly.

Dominic shrugged. "I could. But I'd have to take off your automail first. Like hell I'm tossing _them _in the gorge."

"You've got a sick sense of humor, old man..."

* * *

_A.N. Physics wasn't my strongest subject in high school, but I think I did well in this chapter. Gravity + Wheels + Alchemist = OUCH! Point of interest. I used to rollerblade in middle school, but my excursions were limited to the end of my street and back. Only once did I dare to go down any sort of steep hill, and I thought I was gonna die the whole way down. Some of this chapter came from that experience, and the rest came from my own imagination._


	7. Reprieve

_A.N. Even I can admit this chapter's a bit boring, but it's necessary for plot advancement. We are approaching the romance aspect of this story, so there's a dash of EdWin in here with much more to come!  
_

Chapter Seven - Reprieve

Ed never liked taking pain pills. They tasted gross, they made him woozy and, worst of all, they _didn't do a damn thing_. Given a choice, he preferred to stay alert and take the pain like a man rather than wallow in a hazy fog where the hurt was only lessened, not forgotten. Only the combined weapons of Satera's pleading eyes and Dominic's stern glare over his daughter-in-law's shoulder made him duck his head and gulp the aspirin down while Satera's husband, Ridel, finished cleaning and bandaging his numerous wounds.

"I can't believe you didn't break a bone," Ridel announced, taping the last of the gauze over a scrape on his jaw. "You're lucky you got off with only scratches."

"So I've been told," Ed mumbled around the ice pack he had clamped over his nose. He shrugged his shirt back on, gritting his teeth when even that slight movement pained his shoulder. It still felt far too _loose _in the socket, like it could slip out any second, which made him wary of moving it even a tiny bit. And his automail wasn't fairing much better. The arm was still fairly mobile, but the elbow joint was stiff and creaked every time he moved it. The leg had only just escaped with scratches and surface damage.

Ed reclined back on the couch, resting his pounding head on a pillow. "Thanks for patching me up. I really owe you guys one."

"Think nothing of it," Satera said with a smile. "We're happy to help. But what on earth were you doing street racing?"

"I had a score to settle," Ed said quietly, unwilling to reveal more in the wake of his failure.

"With Callahan?" Dominic said gruffly. "Paninya told me that's who you were racing."

Ed looked up at the engineer. "You know him?"

Dominic rubbed the back of his neck. "I only met him the one time 'bout a month ago. He wanted a new arm from me, I turned him down."

"Why was that?"

Dominic smacked him on the head. "Only an _idiot_ tosses out a perfectly good automail limb just because it's old! They're not _batteries_, for God's sake. Would you cut off your real arm just because it wasn't as strong or sleek as someone else's? No respect! That kid has _no respect!_"

"Easy, Dad," Ridel said soothingly. "_Easy_..."

Dominic huffed angrily and marched off to the workshop in the back of the house, muttering the whole way. Ridel excused himself to go put away the first aid supplies. Satera rounded on Ed with arms crossed and mouth twisted in disapproval. He shrank a little under her stern, maternal gaze, in no way diminished by the fact that she had only been a mother for half a year.

"I don't like those races," Satera admitted softly. "So much danger for no good reason. I just hope our Jack doesn't take risks like that when he's older."

Ed peeked over her shoulder at the baby slung on her back. The pudgy boy blinked down at him curiously and went right back to sucking on his fingers. Ed couldn't help but smile a little at his last memory of the kid as a tiny pink blob squalling at the top of its lungs.

"He got big," Ed noted. "At least, he has since the last time I saw him. Winry said he was already talking a little."

"That's right," Satera said warmly. "It's mostly babble, but he does recognize automail and likes to play with it."

"Yeah?" Ed mumbled, blinking when he realized he was already losing track of the conversation. He pressed a hand over his eyes, exhaustion catching up to him. "Sorry, I don't mean to overstay my welcome, but..."

"Oh, don't you give me that, young man," Satera said sternly. "You're in no shape for a trek down the mountain. At the very least, I want you to stay for lunch, and Winry as well when she gets here."

"Yes, ma'am," Ed said contritely, wincing at the reminder. Anytime now, Paninya would come back with Winry in tow, and Ed would have far more to worry about than a few minor scrapes. He wasn't sure which part he dreaded most, the yelling or the crying. Both were pretty much imminent at this point.

Jack made a few fussy sounds, and Satera undid the sling and took him in her arms, bouncing him up and down. She smiled at Ed. "Would you like to hold him while I go get lunch ready?"

Ed's eyes widened and he sat up, setting the ice pack aside. "Hold him? You mean it?"

"Of course," Satera insisted. "You didn't get a chance to before you and your brother left last time. Here..."

She set the baby in his lap, and Ed quickly wrapped his arms around the little squirmy bundle to keep him from falling. He stared at the fuzzy head below his chin and laughed sheepishly. "I've never held a baby before. What do I...?"

"Just don't drop him," Satera told him. "And call me if you need any help. It's almost his naptime anyway, so he won't be too fussy."

Ed watched her step out of the room in slight panic. He looked around in vain for Ridel or Dominic, but neither of them had come back yet. He was on his own. Ed sighed, causing Jack to look up curiously when his breath ruffled the baby's hair. Ed's experience with little kids was severely limited. He only had the faintest memories of Al as a toddler, and those really weren't that helpful. He had been a brat back then, always pushing baby Al around and taking his toys and making him cry.

What would he do if Jack started crying?

"Well," Ed said nervously. "Just, uh...you and me, eh?"

He looked down and realized Jack wasn't even listening. The baby was too busy trying to stuff all three Ed's remaining automail fingers in his mouth. Ed gently pried two fingers away and offered up the thumb, which Jack readily accepted. Ed glanced down at his pillow in longing. It took some careful maneuvering to get himself lying down without dropping the baby or falling off the couch or taking away Jack's new pacifier, but somehow he managed it. Ed sighed in relief once he was able to stretch out on his back with the baby on top of him, chest to chest. Not the most comfortable of positions, but...

...actually, this was _surprisingly_ comfortable.

"You're not gonna fall off, right?" Ed asked the baby.

Jack blew a bubble.

"Good, cause I'm going to rest my eyes for a bit..."

Ed shut his eyes and waited for the aspirin to kick in, amusing himself with various daydreams of him and Winry beating Cal senseless right in Rush Valley's main street. Yes, that was a nice image. And then they would rally up a mob of engineers to chase him out of town, and then Winry would _finally _admit that violence sometimes had its uses. And then...

"Aww, look at the kiddies having their nap!"

"Paninya, he might hear you."

"Come on, you _know_ you want to make fun of him too."

"Don't worry, I will. But only when Brother won't upset the baby with his yelling."

Wait a minute. The crowd was supposed to be making fun of Cal, not him...

Jack whimpered somewhere below his chin and someone else picked him up. Ed opened his eyes groggily to see Paninya standing by the couch with the baby balanced on her hip. He tipped his head back when a shadow fell across him. Al peered at him over the back of the couch. "Still with us, Brother?"

Ed pushed himself upright slowly and rubbed his eyes. "Barely. Okay, where is she?"

"Who?"

"Who do you think?" Ed griped, eyes darting around the room. "Just go tell Winry I'm up so we can get my beating over with."

Al and Paninya shared a look that Ed didn't like one bit. Paninya cleared her throat and shuffled into the kitchen. "I think I'll go get Jack something to eat..."

"What's up?" Ed inquired, craning his neck to shoot his brother a puzzled look. "Isn't Winry here?"

Al shook his head solemnly. "No. She...wouldn't come."

For a full ten seconds, the words simply wouldn't compute in Ed's otherwise brilliant mind. "What do you mean she wouldn't come?" he said faintly. "I...what about my automail?"

Al sighed and covered his face with one leather gauntlet. "Brother, I love you, but you can be really dumb sometimes."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Winry told you she didn't want you to race!" Al went on furiously. "Which you went and did anyway. And then you got yourself this badly beat up, you_ trashed_ your automail. And all because you were trying to get back at that Cal guy, which she _also _asked you not to do."

"So...she's mad at me?"

"That's a mild way of putting it," Al said dryly, taking a seat beside him. "When Paninya told us what happened, she couldn't even talk at first, she was so livid. And then she said, and I quote, 'If he's so eager to kill himself, he can damn well find another mechanic willing to put up with him.' I'm pretty sure there was something else about you needing a therapist instead of a mechanic, but she was kind of incoherent by then..."

Ed frowned in consternation and leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands, turning that over in his mind. No matter how he looked at it, that still didn't sound right. Angry Winry didn't avoid him or send a proxy to deliver her lectures. Angry Winry was supposed to come after him with all the righteous indignation and migraine-inducing tools she could muster. This deviation from their usual way of doing things didn't make any _sense_.

"Brother, listen to me," Al said when the silence dragged on. "You and Winry have done nothing but make each other angry ever since we got here. The only time you can talk civilly is when you're both pretending nothing's wrong. I thought the whole point of us coming to Rush Valley was for her."

"It is!" Ed protested, startled out of his ruminations. "We _are_ here for her!"

"Then why are you running around after Cal when she doesn't want you to?" Al demanded. "Winry is convinced that the only thing you're interested in is beating Cal in some way, like it's some kind of contest with her stuck in the middle."

Ed stared at Al blankly. "She said that?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Al admitted. "And I'm beginning to believe it, too. Brother, I really think you should try and talk to her. _Without_ yelling. I've tried, but she won't talk to me. I kind of get the feeling it's you she's waiting for."

"Yeah, right," Ed chuckled bitterly. "That's why she keeps snapping at me whenever I so much as open my mouth."

Al poked him in the chest, hard. "Winry called _you_, Brother. She called you in the middle of the night while she was still _crying_. That's got to count for something. Just try, okay? Forget about Cal, forget about your automail and just talk to Winry. Please?"

Ed looked the other way and mulled that over for a bit. Al was right. He _had_ been focusing on Cal at the expense of almost everything else. Ever since that phone call days ago, ever since hearing Winry sobbing over something he didn't do. Just the memory was enough to make something primal snap and snarl in his chest, demanding retribution. Ed didn't think he had ever wanted to hurt anyone more in his life. But wasn't that what you were supposed to do to the people who harmed your friends? Why couldn't Winry see that he was trying to protect her?

_I'm such a coward,_ Ed thought in disgust when he recognized the guilty churn and twist of his guts. The real reason he ran all over town and got himself beaten to a pulp was to _avoid_ having that conversation with Winry. Maybe at first he had been hellbent on getting answers, but now a large part of him just didn't want to know what had occurred in that workshop. It was so much easier to tuck that fear into the very back of his mind and pretend it didn't exist, pretend Winry was just having a bad day and hope tomorrow she would be her usual ass-kicking, automail junkie self.

Even though it was quite apparent now that Cal had hurt her in a more lasting way than he'd originally thought and that she might not _be _her normal self ever again. No, this couldn't be put off any longer. He was stronger than that, and so was Winry. And if offering a listening ear was the only way to get her back to normal...

"Alright," Ed said finally. "I'll talk to her."

"And you'll forget about Cal?"

"We'll see."

"_Brother_..."

Ed shot Al a sour look. "_We'll see_. Can I get some lunch now? I can smell the sandwiches from here..."

Lunch ended up taking most of the afternoon and not just because Ed was famished. Ed and Al spent a great deal of time catching up with Paninya as well as Dominic's family. Al even got a chance to play with Jack for a bit. The baby didn't know the difference between automail and armor and just went nuts over having a playmate made entirely of steel.

Paninya elected to stay behind for dinner as well, leaving Ed and Al to make their own way down the mountainside—a journey that lasted until well after the sun set. The snail's pace _irked_ Ed, truth be told, because he really wasn't injured all that badly. It was just scrapes, cuts, bruises. But it was a whole _lot _of them, one on top of another, dozens of little hurts adding up until Ed was dragging his feet and their progress had slowed to a crawl. It was a huge relief when they made it to Garfiel's shop and Al _finally_ ceased his endless offers to carry him.

By silent consent, they both paused just outside the door of the shop, and Ed was strongly reminded of the night they arrived. Just like then, all the lights were off, but this time the front door had been left unlocked for them despite the late hour.

Ed held up his busted arm ruefully. "You know, it's gotta be some kind of record. This is the third night and Winry still hasn't fixed my automail. Guess I really pissed her off this time."

"Winry has other customers, too," Al said neutrally. "But, yeah, your behavior probably hasn't helped."

Ed scratched the back of his head and looked up at Winry's bedroom. The window was cracked open, and he watched the flimsy curtains sway back and forth with the light breeze. "Tomorrow," he said decisively. "While she's working on my arm, I'll try and patch things up."

"Okay," Al said in relief. He pushed the door open, but didn't enter the shop right away. "Somehow...I think this could be a really good thing for the two of you."

It took Ed a moment to pick out the not-so-subtle _tone_ behind those words, and then he reddened slightly. "Don't even go there, Alphonse!" he barked.

"Go where?" Al said in mock innocence. "I'm just _saying _you and Winry could use this chance to reconnect on a more emotional level..."

"We're not having this conversation again!"

"...and maybe you could share some feelings you've been holding inside for awhile..."

"I admit to nothing!"

"...and you know flowers are always a nice way to sweeten the mood..."

Ed punched Al's chest plate hard enough to make the noise echo through the street. "_I do NOT like Winry!_"

Al's eyes glowed with mirth as he cast a significant look at the window above them. The _open _window. Ed paled and choked on air. He shot his brother a murderous look and swept into the shop, ignoring the knowing tilt to Al's helmet. With any luck, Winry was blissfully asleep and hadn't heard his flustered shout. The _last _thing he needed was for her to take it the wrong way and think that he actually...

Ed scoffed as he plunked his racing gear beside their suitcase and marched up the stairs, planning on a quick trip to the bathroom before reclaiming the couch in the workshop. Ridiculous! He did _not_ like Winry in that way, and he was sick of everyone pretending they knew better than him! Everywhere he went there were people trying to peg the two of them as childhood sweethearts. And Ed had to admit that it _did _look pretty bad with just the bare facts. Born in the same town under a year apart, growing up together, attending the same school, one an automail mechanic and the other possessing two automail limbs built by her and her grandmother...

But still, everyone acted like it was a romance written in the stars. Like he and Winry had no choice but to walk the path to the altar despite being two separate people with their own ideas on how they wanted their lives to go. It just didn't _work _that way. Even if Ed _happened _to harbor some _vague _feelings in that direction, that didn't guarantee Winry wanted the same thing.

_And she would have said something by now, wouldn't she?_

Ed arrived at the top of the stairs and came face to face with Winry's bedroom door, which hung slightly ajar. He approached it as quietly as he could, gazing at the little sliver of floor just inside the room broodingly. There was nothing wrong with the friendship they had now. What they had was...fine. It was comfortable, safe, familiar. Ed refused to mess that up over something as useless and pathetic and transient as a crush.

Besides, he thought bitterly, Winry seemed to be doing just fine without _him_. She had certainly gone out of her way to make sure he was aware of that.

Ed reached out and made to pull the door closed, thinking the light from the hall might bother her. But his three-fingered automail lost its grip on the handle, and the light pressure he exerted was enough to nudge it open further. He shrank back when the door swung aside with hardly a whisper and light flooded over Winry's bed, expecting dirty looks and flying wrenches.

But Winry wasn't there. Her room was empty. Ed backed away and looked up and down the hallway. She wasn't in the bathroom or the second bedroom reserved for newly-fitted customers. No way in _hell_ she was in Garfiel's room this late at night...

Ed forgot all about the bathroom and turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was deaf to Al's inquiries as he stalked through the entirety of the store, saving the workshop for last. Here, there were signs of recent life. Stray tools and a mug of cold coffee resided on the worktable beside some new project carefully wrapped with heavy canvas.

The only thing the picture lacked was a mechanic.

"Brother?" Al said in bewilderment, standing in the door of the workshop. "What's wrong?"

Ed turned slowly on the spot, feeling the cold claws of panic clutching at his soul without knowing why. "Winry isn't here."


	8. Scars

_A.N. Looong chapter! Chapters eight through ten are nearly twice as long as the chapters I've been putting out so far. I couldn't find a good place to split them without making the story seem choppy and drawn out. More EdWin for you guys, I guess.  
_

Chapter Eight - Scars

"_Damn _it, Winry, where did you go?"

She could have made this easy on him. She could have just left things as they were. She could have been safely in bed when he and his brother got back to the shop, allowing Ed to get a good night's sleep after such a crappy day. But, _no_. She just_ had_ to up and vanish into the night without a single trace and make Ed's crappy day even worse.

Ed forced his sore, aching body onward, stalking through the dark streets like a hound on the scent when he wanted nothing more than to curl up in the nearest doorway like a stray cat and wait for the sun to come up. He was probably overreacting, just like Al said, but he just couldn't make himself turn around and go back yet. The same desperate chant that had called him to Rush Valley in the first place had started up again, matching every frantic beat of his heart.

_Find Winry. Find Winry. Don't wait, don't think, just find her..._

Ed cut into an alley and rested his back against the wall. He wasn't going to get anywhere like this, he had to _think_. There were all kinds of explanations for Winry being out at this time of night. Maybe she got a sudden inspiration for whatever project she was working on and was hoping to get the parts she needed before the stores closed up for the night.

Unlikely. During the day it was all about work, but the nights in Rush Valley were another story. It was a time to go out to dinner and drinks with friends or to unwind in the comfort of one's own home. Most of the mainstream places shut their doors right at sunset, and from what little evidence Ed had gleaned, Winry only left the shop after Garfiel went to bed. Now _that _was interesting. Winry hadn't wanted Garfiel to know where she was going, or else hadn't wanted to risk making up an excuse.

Ed tipped his head back and banged it none too gently against the wall. He couldn't come up with a single idea for where else she might be. Was he really_ that_ ignorant about Winry's life here in Rush Valley? If this were Resembool, Ed could have come up with half a dozen places she would be for one reason or another.

Well, Ed thought uncomfortably, he supposed it _was_ a form of Equivalent Exchange. It wasn't like he ever told Winry what he and Al got up to when they were out hunting for the Philosopher's Stone.

Ed checked his watch in the light of the streetlamp. It was getting awfully late. Maybe she had returned to the shop by now? He looked up and down the empty street, eyes passing over the few people who were straggling home. And a flash of blonde hair under a distant street lamp caught his attention. Ed looked again, squinting in the darkness. Yes, that was definitely Winry at the end of the street. He took two strides in her direction, but something stopped him from closing the distance. She looked like a girl on a mission, frowning at the ground with her hands balled in fists at her side as she stomped around the corner.

Curious, Ed jogged after her and tailed her down several more streets, grateful he had left his conspicuous red coat back at Garfiel's. But even so, his scuffed black clothes still drew some suspicious stares from other people, and Ed hunched his shoulders, trying to keep his own posture casual and disinterested. The last thing he needed was someone thinking he was a pervert following a pretty girl home.

Winry was heading in the opposite direction of Garfiel's shop. She turned onto a street lined with bustling restaurants, and Ed's eyebrows rose through the roof when she strode into a bar like she owned the place. Winry? Drinking?

He wouldn't believe it until he saw it. Ed crossed the street and pulled open the door just enough to let himself in, not wanting to draw attention to himself yet. The dim interior was packed with young adults, and Ed would have bet his silver watch that more than a few were underage and pretending otherwise. The barkeep looked to be the only person over twenty-five, and if _he _didn't care then no one else was going to call them out on it. Ed craned over the heads of some people passing by and spotted Winry standing near the back of the bar beside a table whose occupants he didn't recognize.

All except for one.

Callahan.

Ed drifted over to lean against a wooden pillar so he wasn't quite in their line of sight. He couldn't hear the words over the swell of conversation, but he got the gist just from watching. Winry was in full-on lecture mode, snapping out angry words while Cal hardly spared her a second glance. One of the guys at the table made a snide comment that caused everyone to howl in appreciation, and that was the last straw for Winry. She seized Cal's collar and hauled him bodily out of his chair, frog-marching him through a door at the back of the bar with catcalls following on their heels.

Ed ignored the table of idiots and followed his mechanic quickly. The thought of Winry alone with Cal was enough to make him...well, not quite insane, but pretty damn close. There was no way he was leaving without an explanation. At the back of the bar, he pushed the door open cautiously and emerged onto a short corridor. A second door at the other end opened onto a back alley, and it wasn't quite closed all the way, allowing Winry and Cal's voices to drift through the gap.

"...was looking all over for you, but I should have known you'd be here with those _idiots_..."

"Quit manhandling me, woman!" Cal snapped. "Shit, if this is about that friend of yours..."

"You're damn right it is!" Winry said scathingly. "I heard about that race _and _your little trick with the gravel."

"Hey, that gravel _wasn't_ my idea," Cal said loudly. "And I gave your friend every opportunity to walk away, so it's _his _fault for getting in over his head. You should keep a damn leash on him, if you're so worried."

"I can think of a few things you might have said to convince Ed that he _shouldn't_ walk away," Winry hissed. "Now, _look_...I want you to stay away from him until I fix his arm and he leaves. If I find out you've come anywhere _near_ him, I'll give you a lot more than a nosebleed to worry about! Got that?"

Once he got over his initial surprise, Ed had to clap a hand over his mouth to smother a fit of laughter. Winry was threatening _Cal?_ And to protect _him?_ There was something seriously wrong with that picture, and Ed was pretty sure he should be offended over the slight on his manhood, but he was too busy internally cheering. This was the most fight he'd seen out of her since he and Al came to Rush Valley!

But he wasn't the only one laughing.

"W-What is it with you two?" Cal chuckled, like Winry's proclamation was the funniest joke he'd heard in a long time. "Is this some kind of tag-team bit you guys do? First you lead them on, and the second you get some attention, you play the victim and call him in to be your noble knight?"

All the laughter stopped. Ed honestly couldn't decide which part of that sentence he should react to first, but there was a good deal of flustered indignation over the whole 'noble knight' bit. For one thing, Winry had always forced him to be the dragon when they played those games as kids. It was always Alphonse who got to slay the dragon and carry Winry off into the sunset, the smug little git...

Winry breathed in sharply, and when she spoke, Ed could hear the tears in her voice. "For the last time, I did _not _lead you on! I _didn't_, you just _assumed—!_"

"I'm getting tired of hearing that excuse," Cal sighed, dismissing her words out of hand. "I'm going back to my friends, so why don't _you _get back to your love affair with those worthless hunks of metal you call automail..."

There was some kind of scuffle outside and a cry of pain from Cal. "_I don't care what you say about me, but don't EVER insult my work—!_"

A gasp and a hiss of pain, like someone had been shoved against a wall. _Winry_. Ed shouldered the door open and looked around. At first glance the narrow alley looked empty, but he could hear their voices were coming from the other side of a dumpster not six steps away. It was a matter of seconds for him to traverse that distance, but even that short span seemed far too long to Ed.

"Let go of me," Winry said, sounding almost calm if not for the slight quaver in her voice. "Let go, _now!_"

"I don't think you want me to," Cal murmured, dropping his voice to a husky level. "Not so frigid now, are you? If talking about your work was all I had to do to bring out _this_ side of you, I'd have had you laid out on that table faster than you could—"

He never got a chance to finish. Ed rounded the dumpster and hooked his automail arm around Cal's throat, yanking him away from the wall where he had Winry pinned. Cal gasped, clawing at the arm, but Ed wasn't feeling too inclined to give him oxygen.

"Keep your hands off her!" Ed snarled in his ear. "Or you can say goodbye to the rest of your limbs!"

"Ed!" Winry exclaimed, going wide-eyed at his appearance. "Ed, what—how did you—?"

Ed's feet lost contact with the ground abruptly when Cal threw his weight back, ramming him into the wall with all his strength. Ed grunted when the collision knocked all the air from his lungs and nearly losing his grip. Cal seized Ed's steel wrist and began to pry it away from his neck. Gears whined in protest as the two automail arms strained against each other. Had Ed been in top shape it would have been no contest, but an odd twinge in the elbow warned him the arm was on its last legs.

All at once, the elbow _popped_ and went slack, allowing Cal to rip the floppy forearm aside and catapult him right into a couple of trashcans. Ed nearly blacked out when his flesh shoulder was wrenched painfully, but thankfully it stayed in the socket this time. Cal's hands fisted into the back of his jacket, but before he could do anything else, Winry kicked him in the ribs, _hard_. The moment he released Ed, she swung a trashcan lid right at his head. It was only a glancing blow across the temple, but it angered Cal. He caught the edge of the lid on the second swing and jerked it out of her hands, throwing it aside.

"_I've had enough __out of you, bitch!_"

Ed's shout of warning came too late and did absolutely nothing to stop Cal from raising his fist. His _automail _fist. Cal didn't even tryto pull the blow that caught Winry squarely in the jaw, snapping her head around so fast that Ed, in the heat of the moment, was positive he had broken her neck. Winry crumpled to the ground like a rag doll and didn't twitch a finger.

The beast broke free, and this time Ed didn't even try to stop it. He tackled Cal with a wordless roar, lashing out at the bastard's face and chest with his remaining three limbs. He was distantly aware of Cal fighting back, but pure rage prevented Ed from feeling the new bruises piling on top of the old, blinding him to the torn bandages hanging off his frame like the wrappings of a mummy. There was nothing artful or practiced in the brawl this time around, it had nothing to do with honor or pride. It was violence of the most brutal and visceral nature. Neither of them gave a damn who won so long as he got the chance to hurt the other.

At some point the two of them ended up wrestling right in front of the door of the bar just as it swung open and several people piled out. Ed hardly noticed them standing there, not caring who was watching so long as they didn't interfere. But then they _did_ interfere. Cal's friends were just sober enough to dive in and separate their struggling forms rather than try to join the fight themselves. Ed ended up pinned to the wall with three sets of arms restraining him as Cal staggered to his feet.

Ed strained against the three of them, shrieking words he barely even understood. "_Get off me, don't try to stop me! Damn it, I'll KILL him, I'll—!_"

"What's going on here?" one of the friends asked. "Who's this kid?"

"Shit!" another cried, spying Winry's prone form. "What happened to your girl?"

"What's it look like happened?" Cal snorted, swiping a trickle of blood from his chin. "We were just minding our own business, and this kid sees us fooling around—"

"No...that _isn't_ what happened."

Five heads turned to the girl sprawled out on the alley floor, and Ed's brain broke free of the murderous loop. Winry was slowly pulling herself together, rising to her knees and cradling the newly reopened gash in her lip. Her chin was slathered with blood and dripping heavily. Ed swallowed in sympathy, remembering the number of times he had tasted his own blood. He jerked free of Cal's friends before they had quite regained their sensibilities and knelt in front of her, coaxing her hand away so he could get a look at how bad it was.

One of Cal's friends approached them, an older guy with deep red hair, and Ed automatically huddled over Winry protectively. But the guy only gave Ed a curious look, offering them a bandanna that had been wrapped around his upper arm. Ed snatched at it and gave it to Winry so she could press it to her lip.

"What happened?" the redhead asked quietly, directing the question at Winry.

"I just told you—!" Cal began impatiently.

"Cal is the one who hit me," Winry hissed with such clarity and seriousness that there could be no doubt she was telling the truth. "Ed was protecting me."

Cal's friends shared bewildered looks among themselves at the conflicting stories. But the one who had given Winry the bandanna frowned in thought. He crouched down and very carefully wiped the blood from Winry's chin, examining the wound. Then he grabbed Ed's wrist much less gently and peered at the knuckles.

"These screws don't match the imprints on her chin," the redhead informed them all, looking back at Cal. "Not enough fingers to form a fist, anyway. And you're the only other one here with automail, Cal."

Cal grimaced, scrambling for an excuse. "Oh come on..."

But redhead got back on his feet with an utterly disgusted look. Cal searched for allies in the other two, but their sympathy remained with Winry. Cal seethed, watching Ed and Winry with unbridled loathing, and finally stalked out of the alley. Winry choked back a sob, but a quick look at her face told Ed it was more from the pain than anything else. A split lip _hurt_ no matter who you were.

"Come on," Ed murmured. He couldn't have said whether his voice was shaking from anger or fear. Maybe both. "Let's get you back to Garfiel's. Come on, Win..."

Winry allowed him to wrap his only working arm around her and lift her to her feet. After some dithering, Ed decided to leave his arm around her waist. In a situation like this, it couldn't be taken as romantic, could it? No, apparently not, because Winry had no qualms at all about wrapping her arm around _him _and resting her head against his shoulder.

The redhead kept an eye on Cal's retreating form to make sure he left and turned back to them with an angry snort. "Always figured Cal was a lowlife, but even I thought he was better than this. Will you be okay taking her home?"

Ed nodded, and then repeated the gesture at the other two in thanks. He didn't recognize any of them from the race that morning. They were probably Cal's drinking buddies, casual acquaintances he only saw in the bar at the end of the day. No wonder they had turned on him so easily.

"Hey," Winry mumbled around the bandanna, smiling weakly. "Thanks for your help. I'm sorry I called you guys idiots."

The other two muttered hasty condolences and retreated back to the bar, but the redhead paused in the doorway and flashed a disarming grin. "No problem. It was Rockbell, right? You're work ain't half bad. Maybe I'll lose an arm sometime and make an appointment."

Ed blinked at the lighthearted note behind the words. Since when was losing an arm a joke? He looked to Winry for some kind of explanation...and he was shocked to see her _blushing_.

"Uh," Winry stammered, looking between him and Ed. "I-I've...kind of got my hands full already..."

"Okay, I get it," the redhead chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. "He's a priority customer, am I right? Get her home safe, blondie."

Ed waited until the door swung shut behind the redhead before turning to Winry. "Priority customer? I don't get it."

Winry shrugged as they limped in the general direction of the street. "Um...he was, uh..."

"What?" Ed demanded.

"Flirting," Winry muttered, flushing even darker. "It's like...you know, what with all the automail shops, the lingo here just kind of...evolved in that direction."

Ed halted, mind locking down at that one word. "That was _flirting?_ But...but he just said something about an appointment! If everyone talks like that, how are you supposed to tell the customers from the—the—"

"_Customers?_" Winry suggested slyly.

Ed's eyes darted back to the bar, and he tightened his hold on Winry as he tried to wrap his head around it. Flirting. There were _guys_ flirting with _Winry_. Who really wasn't all that bad looking now. He could deny it all he wanted from a distance, but there was no pretending when his flesh arm was currently encircling the warm, curvaceous body in question...

"Don't know why he's flirting with _you_," Ed said loudly, smothering those thoughts and cursing Al for throwing his mind in the gutter earlier. "If he had a clue what he was getting into, I think he'd steer clear."

"Don't be a jerk, Ed," Winry muttered without much heat.

The journey back to Garfiel's was a quiet one. More than once Ed opened his mouth to break the silence, but Winry's subdued manner did not encourage conversation or questions. Ed kept glancing worriedly at the bandanna that was gradually becoming bloodier, and he almost suggested checking with a doctor to see if she needed stitches, but something told him Winry would fight him tooth and nail over it.

Garfiel's shop was still dark by the time they arrived. Al hadn't come back from searching his half of the city. Ed didn't bother with flicking on a light, just dumped Winry in the nearest chair and grabbed an ice pack from the icebox. Winry wrapped the bandanna around it and nursed her lip, doubled over in her chair. Ed made to lean on the table, but he ended up sprawled on the floor when his arm refused to take his weight.

Right away, Winry made to grab his automail, but Ed pulled it out of her reach as he stood up. "You can look at it tomorrow," he said sternly. "You're in no shape to fix anything like this."

"But your _arm!_" Winry protested. "There could be loose parts rattling around and messing up the wires!"

"It can _wait_. You're more important!"

"Ed, I'm—!"

"Don't even try to tell me that you're _fine!_" Ed burst out angrily. "That bastard almost knocked your teeth out!"

Winry ducked her head, but Ed didn't fail to notice the furtive looks she gave him, taking in the extent of the damage from both the race and the fight. It was enough to make Ed scowl. There she was bleeding all over the damn floor, and he was _still _making her worry!

He held out his hand to help Winry rise from the chair. As soon as she was on her feet, Ed seized her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. The maneuver almost turned out to be a disaster when his shoulder panged and his legs quaked under the added weight, but somehow he stayed upright. Winry yelped in surprise when he started up the stairs, clinging to him. "_Edward—!_"

"I'm taking you to bed," Ed announced, grateful she couldn't see his awkward wince when he realized how _that _sounded. "You need to get some sleep," he amended. "You've been working all day, and then instead of taking a break you go out looking for a _fight_. Of all the stupid, idiotic things—"

"I _wasn't_ looking for a fight!" Winry yelled over the sound of her bedroom door being kicked in.

"Yeah, right," Ed said sardonically. "That's why you hauled Cal out of a bar and threatened to break his nose."

Winry stilled. "You heard that? W-What else did you...?"

"Enough," Ed interrupted. "I heard enough."

The ensuing silence and docility made it easier for Ed to navigate the clothes and tools scattered over Winry's bedroom floor so he could set her down on the bed. His head still spun a little from the sudden exertion, so he remained sitting on the mattress to catch his breath. He could still sense Winry staring at the back of his head, but couldn't begin to guess at what she was thinking. The events from earlier still hung over them both like a dark cloud

"Ed, can I ask you something?" Winry said slowly. "Just...just answer honestly."

Winry propped herself up on one elbow, keeping her other hand free to hold the ice pack, and Ed was relieved to see the bleeding already slowing down. She couldn't seem to make up her mind whether to actually voice her question or not and kept looking the other way when they made eye contact.

"Do you think...sometimes...does it seem like I dress...badly?"

"...are you're asking me for _fashion advice?_" Ed said incredulously. "Because this really doesn't seem like the best time for that."

She glared at him. "No, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I-I meant," Winry stammered, speaking so low that Ed almost didn't catch it. "I want to know if...if you think the way I dress is..."

"Is...?"

"Provocative," Winry whispered through clenched teeth.

That one word was almost more shocking than being asked for fashion advice. And as the silence stretched while Ed tried to get something coherent together in his head, Winry still didn't move, hardly seemed to breathe. Like hearing his answer was all that mattered in the world.

"W-What are you talking about?" Ed asked, forcing out the words. "Who told you that...?"

But he guessed the answer almost before he finished. Ed pressed a hand over his eyes, almost too worn out to even dredge up the necessary anger. "_Cal_...of course, who else would it be? He really said that to you?"

"Among other things," Winry admitted in a weak voice.

That explained an awful lot. Like Winry's sudden desire to resemble an old maid. But that only pissed Ed off even more. "So just what made you think you should listen to him? And to answer your question, _no_. There's nothing..._provocative_ about the way you dress!"

Winry raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Oh really? Nothing?"

"Yes, _nothing!_" Ed said furiously. "Winry, just how long have we known each other? Don't you think I would know what I'm talking about?"

She still didn't look quite convinced, but at least she was listening. Ed looked around for random inspiration and spotted something black lying on the floor nearby. "Okay, let's take that tube top thing for instance. That shows more skin than anything else you own, but you wear it anyway. Why?"

"Um," Winry faltered. "Because...well, it's comfortable. And when I'm working I don't get hot..."

"Okay," Ed said matter-of-factly. "Those are perfectly logical, non attention-getting reasons. I've seen you work in that before, and you were one hundred percent focused on your _work_. Anyone who tried to distract you got his head bitten off. If you were trying to be provocative, you'd be making weird flirty automail references instead."

That managed to cajole a weak smile out of her. Weak, because her lip was still hurting. "You've got a weird way of cheering people up, Ed."

"What are you talking about, I'm an _expert!_" Ed boasted. "Now, is my job done or should I go through every article of clothing in this room until you stop being an idiot?"

Winry set the ice pack and bandanna on the nightstand, still looking far too troubled for Ed's liking. "It's not just the clothes. It's...he said something about how I act around my customers..."

"You mean friendly?" Ed said dryly. "Caring? Social? Fanatical about automail? Yeah, that _really _reeks of an evil succubus."

"You weren't there," Winry said shortly. Her eyes had gone slightly unfocused, seeing something Ed couldn't. "You didn't hear it like...like _he _said it..."

"I don't care what he said, he's _wrong!_" Ed exclaimed, close to shouting. "How can you still let him get to you like this? After all the trouble he's caused you, after he _hurt _you—!"

"Because I'm _afraid_ of him!"

Those words silenced Ed like nothing else. Winry lay down on her side and pressed her face into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, and Ed's throat went tight as he wondered if this was how she had looked days ago before she called him, before he even knew anything was wrong.

"I can't help it," Winry choked, letting the words tumble out of her into the pillow. "I don't _want _to be afraid of him. But no one's ever_...come at me_ like that before. Just out of nowhere, before I even knew what was happening. And then when I told him to stop, he just _wouldn't_...a-and anytime I see him now, all I can remember is how s-scared I was, and how I couldn't get _away_ from him..."

_She's talking_, Ed thought numbly. Winry's fear must have been infectious because his heart was throbbing painfully in his chest, one solid mass of agony. She was _talking_ about it. And to_ him_, just like Al said. But part of him was screaming inside because he didn't want to_ hear_ this. Bad enough to see Winry's bouts of depression and her lip, bad enough to get snide little hints from Cal, but to actually _know_ the details from the one source he trusted was even worse. His legs ached with the urge to run out of the room with his hands over his ears, the gears in his arm creaking in response to the tension in his body.

But running would mean leaving her to deal with this all on her own. And Ed couldn't do that.

"You probably don't even know what I'm talking about," Winry said miserably. "I...I'm sorry..."

Ed turned away, fixing his eyes on the door across the room. There was no way he could keep looking at her without breaking down himself. "I _do_ know," he said faintly. "Or at least...I had an idea of why this happened, and I spent a lot of time hoping I was wrong."

"I don't think he would have done anything _really _bad," Winry murmured, as though that made a difference. "But I don't think he even considered that I would say no. He just...he read me completely wrong. Thought I was flirting with him when I wasn't, and..."

"How far did he get?"

Ed had no clue where the question came from. That was the _last _thing he wanted to know, but at the same time it felt important. So important.

"Not far," Winry said timidly. Every word sounded painful and shamed, forced, but she said them anyway. "He almost...well, he _did_..."

"What?" Ed pressed when she hesitated.

"...kiss me," Winry breathed. "Took him a minute to realize I wasn't going along with it. And when I told him to back off and let me go...then he got angry. He pushed me, harder than he meant to. That's how my lip got hurt on the table. He might've hit me again, but I grabbed one of my tools and..."

"Knocked his lights out," Ed said with a fierce grin.

"He left pretty quickly after that," Winry finished, an answering smile playing out on her face. The motion tugged at the clotting gash and a bead of blood welled up on her bottom lip.

"You've got to keep this on!" Ed said in exasperation and seized the ice pack to press against her lip, jumping on the opportunity to _do _something for her other than sit around pathetically. He didn't realize his hand was visibly trembling until Winry took it in both of hers.

"I'm not the only one he hurt," Winry said, eyes shrouded with that awful sadness to her eyes that Ed absolutely hated. "I can tell you're in pain every time you move. Ed, _why _did you have to get yourself hurt like this just to get back at him?"

Ed opened his mouth and closed it again. As long as they were being truthful...

"I didn't know what else to do," Ed muttered. "You weren't talking to me about...about any of this. I didn't know what I was supposed to be _doing_. I just wanted to...make it better, somehow."

It sounded like a pretty pitiful excuse. Winry didn't buy it, and her face was already falling back on that empty, wretched expression from before. "But Ed, you know that's not going to help me now..."

Ed braced his hand on the mattress beside her pillow and leaned over her, looking her dead in the eye. "I know you don't think it'll make a difference, but...but do you even realize how much it scares me to hear what he tried to pull with you?"

Winry's lips parted in something like surprise. "Scares...?"

"Yes, _scares_," Ed said ardently, letting his words run unchecked before he lost his nerve. "More than scares, it fucking _terrifies _me. And you know why? Because _I wasn't here to stop him._ I never would have even known about him if you hadn't called me that night! What's to stop something like this from happening again? That asshole isn't going to leave you alone anytime soon. The way I see it, the only way to rectify that is to make _him_ afraid of _us_. That's why. That's your reason, and you can hate me if you want, but there it is."

A frown line wrinkled Winry's forehead, but this time she actually seemed to be thinking about his words. She swallowed. "I don't...don't hate you, Ed."

It would have been an innocent enough statement...had her eyes not flicked down to his lips. Once. Just once. But it was enough to alter the atmosphere between them, making Ed suddenly, horrifyingly _aware _of how close they were. They were practically breathing in each other's mouths, and every single inhalation was making her breasts rise dangerously close to his ribs, which in turn made Ed wonder how they would _feel _right up against his chest while he kissed her...

Bright red flags flew up in Ed's mind, and his first reaction was sheer, overwhelming _panic_. His lecherous fantasies were probably written all over his face, right there for Winry to see! He began to pull back, deciding that a swift retreat was in order followed by a cold shower as a punishment.

The only thing that stopped him was Winry's hand on his jaw, tracing the gauze taped there. Ed's entire body hummed when her fingers threaded into his hair, enhancing his senses until her palm seemed to burn him. She was watching him very carefully, searching his expression with eyes gone dark, dark blue in the dim light. Like how the sky looked in the dead of night, all those nights they had lain under the stars as kids.

_I don't want to go along with this_, Ed thought desperately when Winry raised her head from the pillow with a very clear goal in mind. _She's...she's my friend, my mechanic, and I do not LIKE her, damn it! Just because everyone else thinks so and even Al says so and I can't fucking BREATHE when she's this close doesn't mean that I...that I actually... _

It barely qualified as a kiss. It was just lips touching since Winry avoided putting any pressure on her bottom lip. But it was enough. _More_ than enough. If her palm had branded him, this set off a nuclear explosion in his head, wiping his brain clean of any form of thought or reason, and _damn_, Ed hadn't even known it was _possible _to get high off someone's breath alone...

Winry let the contact end after a few seconds, but only gave him an inch of breathing space, almost like she was waiting for a reaction or a rejection. Even if he wanted to, Ed couldn't have given her either. He was too busy trying to remember his own name and coping with the alarming realization that _he_ _wanted to kiss her back_.

A door opened downstairs, and they jerked apart when Al called their names. Ed jumped to his feet, suddenly shy and babbling to cover it. "I-I'd better go let Al know we're back. I mean, he was worried too and all..."

He stopped when Winry took his hand and squeezed his fingers, still watching him uncertainly. "You'll let me work on your arm tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Ed said with a quick grin. "Yeah, definitely. I mean, as long as you feel up to it. And I know you've got other customers."

"Yeah," Winry agreed with a secretive gleam in her eye. "But you're my priority."

Heat pooled in Ed's stomach and elsewhere when he _finally _got what that guy meant earlier, and nothing in the world could have stopped the pleased smile from tugging at his mouth. "Okay. Get some sleep, you damn gearhead."

"You too, alchemy freak."

Two seconds later, Ed shut Winry's bedroom door behind him and leaned against the wall in the hallway, pressing the heel of his palm to his eyelid. He felt...exhausted. Like he had been run through a wringer and stretched in a dozen different ways before he managed to sort out his emotions and put himself back together.

Or maybe Winry had done that for him.

He mulled that over. She had kissed him. _Winry_ had kissed _him_. And he had _liked _it. Sure, it hadn't been _much_ of a kiss, but there was no way she would have done that just to screw with his head. She had _wanted _that. Wanted _him_. In one fell swoop, the boundaries set in place since childhood had blurred, and Ed wasn't sure if he should be thrilled about the change or infuriated that neither his body nor anyone else was giving him a choice in the matter. Hell, even Winry seemed determined to mess him up.

Ed gazed out the window at the end of the hallway, seeing another gearhead from a long time ago. Twelve-year-old Winry bellowed at him shrilly from the Rockbell's front porch, cheeks bright with color and blue eyes alive with determination.

"_If you think I'm a gearhead, that's fine, but you had better get used to it! Because as long as you're wearing MY automail, you're stuck with this gearhead whether you like it or not!"_

He touched two fingers to his lips, and the skin tingled in response, still afire from the kiss. Ed smiled to himself and headed for the stairs and the couch in the workshop with a bounce in his step_. Well, maybe it's not so bad after all..._


	9. Bully

_A.N. Wow, I'm so thrilled by all the reviews for the last chapter! There seemed to be a great deal of celebrating over the kiss, which I was kind of worried about. I was expecting at least one cry of "OOC!OMG!" but it didn't happen. So, yay!_

_And I am also thrilled to say that I am not done yet...and neither is Cal. Dun dun dun!_

Chapter Nine - Bully

Ed rose early the next morning and, with Al's help, managed to get washed up and replace most of his bandages with clean ones before Winry came downstairs to start fixing him up. For some odd reason, Ed was feeling a bit more self-conscious about his appearance than normal. He didn't want to give Winry any reason to fly off the handle. There was nothing he could do about the bruises and the stiffness and broken automail, but at least now he no longer looked like he had been scraped off the road with a shovel.

"You look like you got scraped off the road with a _shovel!_" Winry screeched when he took off his shirt for her exam. "Look at all these bruises! And those scrapes! Look at your _automail!_ You tore off half the plating, you're missing two fingers, you _destroyed_ the elbow joint, and—my God, do _not _tell me that is _gravel _lodged in the gears!"

Ed hastily snatched up his empty breakfast plate to shield himself from the wrench Winry swung his way, grateful that he had at least managed to finish his eggs. The same couldn't be said for the toast, now butter-side down on the floor. He threw Al a pleading look over his shoulder, but his brother only shook his head. "Don't look at me like that, Brother. I _knew _it was a bad idea, but..."

"Don't even give me that, Alphonse Elric!" Winry said at once, chucking her wrench so hard that Al toppled over. "You had _every_ _chance_ to stop this insanity before it ever happened! Ed is three times _smaller_ than you, and you couldn't manage to tie him to a chair or something?"

"_Oi!_" Ed bellowed from behind the plate. "I'm of perfectly average height, so don't go calling me small!"

"I need to take the whole arm off," Winry said in resignation. "This is going to take me all day, and I doubt you'll be able to stay still for that long. Mr. Garfiel, can you take some of my customers today while I put this idiot back together?"

"Of course," Garfiel agreed. "We only have two booked for check-ups anyway, so you should have the workshop all to yourself."

Ed leaned back in his chair with a jaded sigh as Winry crouched beside him, feeling around under his armpit for the mechanism to remove the automail. Ed watched her profile as she slid searching fingers under the port. Her lip was still swollen and the healing skin fragile, but if it hurt then Winry did a good job of hiding it. At least it looked a lot better than it had last night.

The memory came back to him before he could stop it. The gentle, tentative touch of those lips against his own, the harsh taste of salt and blood, the heat of her body...

He swallowed dryly, barely restraining the urge to pant like a dog, and the movement caught Winry's attention. She glanced up at him, at his lips, and also went a little pink, eyes darkening to the deepest blue imaginable. Ed didn't think he would ever look at that color the same way again.

Winry gave him a quick, shy smile and looked away again while Ed cleared his throat and pretended to be interested in the toolbox at her feet. He had expected things to be awkward between them, but to his surprise, it was almost exactly the same as before. There was no tension or discomfort, only a faint sort of _energy_ that somehow added to their interactions without actually changing all that much. Winry neither pressed him for more nor held him at a distance, and Ed wondered if she was waiting for _him _to take the initiative.

It so, she made no sign of it. And that was fine with Ed. Slow was good. He needed a chance to get used to this. It was still so bizarre to think that he could actually lean in and _kiss _her and not be pushed away. He would have to make plans for another one in the near future. Maybe later while she was working, he could bring her lunch and...

Winry found the catch under his arm and released it. The shoulder dropped a little in the socket, and she tugged the automail completely out of the port. Ed's head swam, and he rubbed his shoulder uselessly as his brain struggled to reconcile the sight of an empty port with the sensation of a limb still _being _there. He always felt the arm, even when it was gone, and he knew he was in for a very uncomfortable couple of hours before his mind adjusted.

"I'll definitely have this done today," Winry promised him, slinging the arm over her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure I have all the parts I need, and assuming your leg also checks out, you and Al can leave as soon as tomorrow if you really want to."

Ed looked up, taken aback. She wanted them to leave that soon? Not that he was one to talk. He was usually the first to demand a rush job so he and Al could get back on the open road. But this was _different_. Ed wanted to stay a little longer and figure out what was going on between them. He couldn't do that if they were on a train tomorrow morning...

"We don't mind staying for another day or two," Al said suddenly. "Our next lead is only a few towns away, so there's no rush."

"Right," Ed added hastily. "It's not even _that_ promising of a lead. And I'm not sure I'm even up to traveling like this, so..."

Winry smiled at him radiantly and retreated to her workshop, leaving the door partially open so they could hear her humming. Ed balanced his chin in his remaining palm and leaned over a little to watch her dismantle his arm, eyeing the graceful curve of her back. She had finally gone back to her usual work attire, which was both a relief and a source of discomfiture. Had she _always _looked that good in the tube top?

Al tilted his head in Ed's direction, eyes dimming to a warm glow. "She seems very happy today," he said slyly. "I wonder why that could be, Brother?"

"Hell if I know," Ed said dismissively, shrugging his one shoulder. When Al continued to watch him shrewdly, he squirmed a little and jumped to his feet. "Come on, I'm gonna go stir crazy if we stay inside! I've always wanted to try sparring with one arm."

"A-_hem_."

Garfiel held a piece of paper under his nose, which on closer examination, turned out to be a list of mechanical parts and brand names pertaining only to automail. Ed gulped at the sheer _length_ of the list and looked up at the man in disbelief. "Don't tell me..."

"I told you there are no lay-a-bouts in my shop," Garfiel told him quite firmly. "I'm running low on a few items that I like to keep in stock. You two can find most of that in the business district without much trouble, but make sure you get _exactly _what I wrote down! I don't care if someone else says he can sell you better, you don't know enough about automail engineering to make the call."

"You _did_ say you wanted fresh air, Brother," Al said brightly, looking at the list over his shoulder. "This should keep us out for most of the day."

"Way to make me eat my words," Ed grumbled as he wrestled his shirt on one-handed. He made to throw his coat over his shoulders to cover the empty port, but Garfiel snatched it out of his hands.

"I wouldn't do that," Garfiel warned him urgently. "If they don't see your port, the other mechanics will assume you're a new amputee looking for an engineer. If there's one thing they can't resist, it's the chance to stake their claim on unmarked territory."

"Freaking vultures," Ed muttered. With one last look back at the workshop, he waved at Al to follow him out the door. "Alright, let's get this over with."

The door swung shut behind them, and they set off side by side down the street. To his credit, Al waited until they were well out of earshot of Garfiel's shop before he pounced. "So are you going to tell me what happened last night?"

"What makes you think anything happened?" Ed said at once, speaking just a little too fast.

Al leaned down and nudged Ed in the ribs. "I _saw _that look she gave you. Honestly, you two need to work on your subtlety. I thought I was going to have to pour cold water on you both, you couldn't stop staring at each other..."

"That's_...hey!_ I was _not—_wait, she was staring at me?"

Before Al could answer, a drawling voice came from behind them, snide and familiar. "She was probably just wondering whether to fit you with the kiddy-sized automail. God knows you're just small enough to use it."

Ed halted, but unlike his brother, he didn't turn to face Cal. The jibe really didn't bother him as much as it would have yesterday, which was a pleasant surprise. Cal's presence had become more of an annoyance than an actual threat to be concerned about. Cal could hint and bluster all he wanted, he could insult Winry and Ed every day until the day he died, and it wouldn't change a thing because Winry had told him the truth of the matter.

And besides...

_She kissed me, not you,_ Ed thought with a little thrill of victory in his chest. That single fact alone was enough to make Cal look two inches tall in his eyes.

Al wasn't quite as calm about Cal's appearance. "What are _you _doing here?" he demanded. "Winry doesn't want to see you anymore!"

"Trust me, she's the last thing on my mind," Cal muttered. "I'm here to talk to _him_."

"Funny, because I have no intention of talking to you," Ed said coolly, enjoying flicker of uncertainty in Cal's eyes. "We'll give you thirty seconds to get your ass away from this part of town before we start swinging."

Al nodded, backing him up without question. Cal cast a wary look in his direction before turning his attention back to Ed. "I want you out of this valley, Elric" he snarled. "You, and that bitch you call a mechanic!"

Ed rushed him, lashing out with his automail foot. Cal jumped aside at the last second so the kick only caught him in the side. He clutched his ribs and backed away, glaring at Ed in white-hot rage.

"My brother and I won't be here for much longer," Ed said in a low voice. "But Winry isn't going anywhere. She belongs in this town, and she has customers here who depend on her. The kind that actually _respect_ her work."

"I'd say you respect a lot more than that," Cal sneered.

Al took one very large, very menacing step forward. "I'm _warning _you..."

"Easy, Al," Ed said, holding out his arm to keep his brother back. "There's nothing he can do to threaten Winry's place here. He has nothing, and he knows it."

"Oh, is _that_ what you think?" Cal laughed. "Do you really think I'd be here if I had no cards to play?"

Ed looked back at Cal with a strange foreboding inside. "What are you talking about?"

"The _race_, idiots," Cal said coldly. "The final race of the street racing competition is tomorrow. Four out of the five racers have automail. Do you really think the engineers who built those limbs have nothing riding on this? Only the very best mechanics make it in Rush Valley, and whoever's automail crosses the finish line first is guaranteed to get more interest."

"What does that matter?" Ed said sharply. "Winry's automail isn't in that race."

Cal looked down his nose at him, touching his own prosthetic. "It _would _have been. What do you think will happen after I win and everyone learns I replaced her automail only days before the race? I won't even have to say anything. People will make their own assumptions about why I thought her automail wasn't good enough and look elsewhere. It's not like they'll have any trouble finding another mechanic."

Ed paled, torn between anger and dismay. This didn't sound like a bluff. He had seen for himself how cutthroat the competition was here in Rush Valley. So far, Winry had held her own, but Ed wasn't so naïve as to believe she was the very best there was or ever would be. A blow to her reputation, _any _blow to her reputation, could be the first domino tipped in a long chain that would steal away her prospects and leave her with no choice but to pack up and go.

"I don't think you give her customers enough credit," Al spoke up, but even he was sounding uncertain. "They won't abandon her so easily!"

"It's not all about the customers she has now," Cal explained, like he was contemplating the weather rather than ruining a girl's life. "Even the most loyal customers can't predict what they need. They get older, they develop chronic problems, their lives change drastically...any one of which could require automail of an entirely different make. And when those customers are gone and no new ones are willing to come, what's left for your little mechanic?"

Ed paced forward and seized the front of Cal's shirt. "If you think I'll let you get away with this—!"

"I don't _have_ to win," Cal offered, unperturbed. "I might be content with second place. But only if both of you are gone by tomorrow. She'll be out of Rush Valley either way, but at least if she leaves with you, her reputation will stay intact. Maybe she'll have better luck in that backwater village she comes from."

Ed shoved Cal so hard that he staggered and fell to the road. "How about I just break your legs right now so you can't even take part in that damn race?" he hissed, meaning every word.

But Al's hand closed around his wrist, holding him back. Cal took that opportunity to get up and retreat, throwing a flippant wave over his shoulder while Ed flailed in Al's grip, spitting in his fury. "Damn it, let _go _of me! Al, we can't just let him—!"

"Ed, you _can't!_"

"—just a couple of compound fractures, he won't die from that—!"

Al spun Ed around so they were face to face. "What would happen to you if Cal's father finds out exactly who you are? It's one thing when you beat up criminals, but the military can't ignore it if they find out the People's Alchemist put a civilian in the hospital!"

"They're not about to kick me out for breaking a few bones!" Ed countered. "At most, they'll just—"

"They could stop us from doing our research," Al said solemnly. "They could restrict your movements only to East City or cut your budget. Brother, they could transfer you to a stricter commander who doesn't know our secret! I'm not letting you face those kinds of consequences because of this!"

"So you'd rather let Winry face the consequences instead?" Ed shouted, yanking his arm free. But when he looked around, Cal was long gone. "_Damn it!_" he roared, punching the nearest wall.

"We don't know that he can actually do what he says," Al said, though he didn't sound at all convinced.

"Are you willing to risk Winry's happiness on that?" Ed said hoarsely. He waved at the shops around them. "She loves it here. She loves her customers, and she's learned so_ much_. She never would have had all that in Resembool. Can you imagine being forced to study basic arrays for the rest of our lives when there was an entire town full of alchemists only a train ride away?"

Al had no answer to that. Ed paced around a little, raking his hand through his hair. "Okay, _think_. What can we do to stop Cal from winning?"

"Sabotage the race," Al said instantly. "We can use alchemy to wreck the course and force them to cancel it."

"They'll reschedule it and pick another course," Ed replied, shaking his head. "And how many other alchemists do you know in this town? It wouldn't be much of a stretch to connect the ruined course to us, and us to Winry. That would be just as bad for her reputation as what Cal wants to do."

"Things will only go bad if Cal is the one who wins, right?" Al asked after another minute of brainstorming. "It doesn't matter if it's someone else. All we have to do is make sure Paninya crosses the finish line first. I'm sure if she knows what's at stake, she'll try harder."

"Right, that settles it," Ed said resolutely, and he stuffed Garfiel's list into Al's palm. "You take care of this, and I'll go look for Paninya. She's probably still up at Dominic's. I think yesterday he said something about giving her a maintenance check."

Al looked at the list. Then at him. "You're not going to go break Cal's legs as soon as I turn my back, are you?" he said doubtfully.

Ed cringed. Al grabbed the collar of his shirt and bodily hauled him down the street. "We're staying together! We'll get the shopping done, drop everything off and _then_ go see Paninya. It can't take _that _long if we work together."

It _did _take that long.

Most of the things on the list were simple parts that any other mechanic used on a daily basis. Joints, screws, gears, bearings, all things Ed and Al were relatively familiar with and could recognize on sight. To save time, Ed had the parts delivered to Garfiel's shop instead of hauling it around themselves, promising Al again and again that they _would _pay Garfiel back for the shipping charge. Eventually. But all the extra time that saved them was wasted when they got hung up on several specialty items Ed had never even heard of.

"What the _hell_ is a pneumatic actuator?"

"I'm not sure. Um...well _pneumonia_ is a kind of lung disease, right?"

"Are you suggesting my arm and leg have _lungs?_ Not bloody likely!"

They managed to find plenty of people willing to point them in the right direction...in exchange for Ed showing off his leg. Al had to physically restrain two girls that accosted them claiming to be mechanics desperate for work. Key word being _claiming_. Ed took one look at their spindly arms and the amateurish way they handled their tools and ran for his life, complaining to Al the whole way about crazy pickpockets trying to strip him in the middle of the street and rob him blind.

Al subtly suggested that their motives may have been a little more carnal than that, causing Ed to flush and bully a promise out of his brother to never, _ever _tell Winry about that particular episode. To his consternation, Al found this highly amusing.

"I just think it's great that you're so loyal to Winry, and right off the bat too!"

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, now damn it Al, let's just get this _done!_"

Morning had passed into late afternoon by the time they crossed the last item off the list, and then Ed sprinted to the edge of town with Al right behind him. On the way to Dominic's, they debated about fifty different plans on how to ensure Paninya's victory, many involving alchemy, but most of their ideas were too flashy and sure to get her disqualified if anyone found out. By the time they arrived at their destination, they had settled on just telling Paninya the truth of the matter and seeing if she had any better ideas on how to keep Cal from racing at all.

Ed should have known better than to think fate wouldn't throw them a curveball.

"_Just what the hell did that asshole DO to you?_"

Paninya pouted at Ed and Al from her place on the couch, legless and sullen. "I told Dominic I wanted to give him the winnings after I won the race," she mumbled. "He didn't take it well."

"So he took your legs away?" Al cried in outrage.

Dominic stepped into the room then, arms crossed and mouth set in a grim line. "Her legs weren't functioning properly. They needed to be replaced. She'll have them back tomorrow night."

"She needs them back _now!_" Ed roared. "She has to be in that race! She _has _to! Put her legs back on, old man!"

"They're not functioning properly," Dominic repeated, emotionless as a robot. "They need to be replaced."

"I didn't know you guys cared so much about the race," Paninya said apologetically. "Sorry, but maybe next year..."

Ed dropped into the nearest chair, hopelessness overtaking him. "Al, tell them."

Al told them everything as far as he knew it. Paninya already knew at least part of the story, but when it came time to explain Cal's threat to ruin Winry's career, she cut loose with a string of oaths no doubt learned from Dominic in his most unguarded moments. Dominic remained silent through the narrative, but his face gradually grew more and more purple with suppressed rage. By the time Al finished, he also sank into a chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with a haunted look.

"He must have gone straight to that girl after I turned him away," Dominic said roughly. "I should have just made the damn arm for him, but I was too damned proud. Boys...I apologize."

"You didn't see this coming," Ed said dully. "No one did. All that matters now is what we can do about it."

"Dominic, you _have_ to put Paninya's legs back on," Al said fervently. "She can beat Cal and make sure he never carries out his threat."

Dominic looked around at them all bleakly. "I dismantled her legs to make sure she couldn't take them back and sneak away in the night. It would take me the rest of today and half the night to get them together again. And even if that wasn't the issue..."

"I usually faint whenever my legs are reattached," Paninya admitted softly. "I just can't take the pain, and it takes me days to recover. Even if we got temporary replacements from town, I wouldn't be in any shape for a street race. I'd come in dead last, if I finished at all."

As they spoke, Ed could see all their options were evaporating before their eyes, and he had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming. And instead of dread, all he felt was strangely calm acceptance. It had only been a matter of time before it came to this, him against Cal, and Ed was ready and willing to accept the challenge. Whether Winry wanted him to or not.

"I'll do it," Ed announced. "I'll race in Paninya's place."

Paninya looked from him to Al to Dominic, perking up a bit. "Well...the judges _do _allow us to pick a replacement if one of us can't race for some reason."

"Ed," Al said faintly, sounding sick. "You almost got _killed _the last time you raced. This time, you'd be up against even more people who have been doing this for much longer than you, who are _better_ than you. What makes you think you can win?"

Ed raised his chin defiantly. "Because this time there's more at stake than just my pride. I'll win because I don't have a choice."

No one spoke for a long, long moment.

"Don't die," Dominic said bluntly. "I don't feel like scraping you off the road again."

They didn't stay for much longer after that, just long enough to eat a small dinner and hash out some basic strategy. But it wasn't long before everyone ran out of things to say and Ed and Al began their long, trudging journey back to Rush Valley, dispirited and arguing back and forth the whole way down the mountain. Ed didn't want to tell Winry about the race. Al did. Ed thought it would be a bad idea. Al disagreed. Ed worried she would find a way to sabotage his automail and keep him from racing at all. Al was of the opinion that she would be perfectly justified in doing so.

The only thing they agreed on was that neither of them wanted to see her cry.

"If you want to tell her, I can't stop you," Ed told him jadedly once they stood outside Garfiel's shop. "Just let me get my arm back first. Racing without it would be awkward."

Al nodded reluctantly and pushed open the door. Winry was there to greet them instantly, beckoning Ed inside. "I've been waiting for you all day!" she said excitedly. "Come on, come see how it looks! I want to get it attached tonight so you can let me know how it feels!"

Ed allowed her to steer him into the workshop where his newly-repaired arm lay on the worktable, basking in the fiery orange light of the setting sun coming in the window. The metal gleamed like the coals of a dying fire, and oddly the sight matched Ed's feelings perfectly—determination smoldering weakly and ready to be stoked to life at a moment's notice.

Winry got him sitting down and puttered around with the arm, checking things over one last time before sliding it into the port. Ed braced himself for the nerve connection and managed to grit his teeth through it, recovering enough to test the range of the new elbow joint. He flexed the fingers one by one, recognizing some of the plating from Cal's automail. Winry had decided to take apart the arm that hurt her and make use of the pieces after all.

She kept right on babbling animatedly, explaining about a new innovation for the joints and how they could now take double the strain before coming close to breaking. Usually, Ed hardly made an effort to listen to her ramblings, but this time he couldn't help but hang on to every word. The truth was that he thought it was amazing anyone could be so committed to something because of passion alone. Winry thrived on competition, but she would keep trying to improve her work even if there was no one to appreciate it but herself.

_I want that_, Ed thought, heart thumping painfully. _I want her there for me at the race. I want her support, her passion, I want her cheering for me at the finish line. When did I get so selfish?_

But the one thing he didn't want was to keep this from her. Not anymore.

"I'm going to be in the race tomorrow," Ed said quietly when she paused for breath. "I'm taking Paninya's place."

Winry froze, and in a matter of seconds her expression crumpled. She started to say something, but Ed held up his hand. "Don't. Just let me explain first. Let me tell you why."

And he told her why. And he watched his mechanic go from angry and fearful to devastated. Ed didn't blame her. Cal was like a bad cold or a cockroach, impossible to kill off completely, always coming back in a time and place you never saw coming. Once he finished speaking Winry pulled her legs up on the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees, eyes wandering over her workshop with a stricken look.

"Going back," Winry said brokenly, voicing the one thing Ed had most dreaded to hear. "Going back to Resembool...it wouldn't be _so_ bad, would it? I-I've learned plenty already, and I'd be with Granny. I'm sure Garfiel could find another apprentice to manage all my customers. I wouldn't be missed..."

"Yes, you would," Ed said softly. "You have no idea how much you would be missed. I've seen how much your other customers depend on you. What would they do if you left? I know how it would make _me_ feel, being forced to settle for second best. You deserve to be here, and I'm not letting him take that away from you."

Winry jumped to her feet, a hysterical note in her voice. "But I don't want you to race! You can't take a risk like this just because of me! Ed, it's not _worth_ it."

"Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?" Ed shot back, also standing.

"But this could get you _killed!_" Winry insisted, wringing her hands. "You could wind up in the hospital and be months in recovering, and...and what about that lead you and Al are supposed to be following? What kind of friend would I be if I let you get distracted from your goal? Ed, don't you remember what I said when I called you that night?"

Ed shut his eyes, the memory already ringing in his ears.

_I shouldn't have called you like this..._

_You can't afford to worry about me, not when you spent all that time getting back on your feet to help Al... _

_I'm so selfish... _

"Yeah, I do," Ed said softly. "And do you remember what I told _you?_"

Winry looked away, lips quivering. "It's okay to call your friends in the middle of the night," she murmured. "Even if I think it's too trivial to talk about and you can't do anything about it. I remember."

"You're my best friend, Winry," Ed said, hands curling into fists at his sides. "You've been there for me and Al since the very beginning, even before we screwed our lives over and needed all the help we could get. Now that you're the one in need, what kind of friends would we be if we didn't look out for you in return? We may be idiots, but every girl needs a couple of useful idiots to chase the bullies away."

Winry snorted feebly at the old joke that refused to die no matter how many years had passed since Ed and Al clobbered their first bully and earned her friendship forever. Her hair spilled over her shoulder and hid her face, but Ed had a pretty good idea of what her expression would be anyway. The same as two nights ago when she saw all the damage he had done to himself just learning how to street race. Worry, guilt, and a certain despair that told him Winry didn't hold out much hope for his victory against the one who had hurt her.

Ed stepped forward and gingerly wrapped his arms around her. Winry didn't embrace him back, but she buried her face in the side of his neck, shaking from head to toe.

"I'll win," Ed breathed. "And even if I don't, I'll find a way to make sure Cal doesn't do a thing to harm you or your reputation. I mean, there's always violence, right? I'd like to see him badmouth anyone with a broken jaw."

That surprised another choked laugh out of her, and she clung to his shirt. Ed pulled back a little, gratified to realize for the first time that they were nearly the same height now. He only had to stretch up the tiniest bit to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"I hope you'll wait for me at the finish line."

He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't think he could take it if the answer was no. Ed brushed past her and out of the workshop, heading for the second bedroom upstairs. He needed to give himself every advantage, and that meant a full night's rest in a real bed. Ed had previously turned down the upstairs room in favor of the workshop because machine oil smelled more like home than detergent and antiseptic. And because Garfiel would have had a fit if he found out Ed was messing up the pretty floral-patterned bedding reserved for customers.

_And Cal was the last one to stay in that bedroom when his arm was first attached. Winry brought meals to that bastard in there. That's the real reason, isn't it?_

But Cal was long gone, and there had been no new customers since then. A bed was a bed.

But even with that reasoning, sleep remained elusive. After two hours of staring at the white plaster ceiling, Ed resorted to reciting the periodic table, the components of a human body, the names of the places he and Al had seen since they left Resembool, anything that came to mind. It must have worked because the next thing he knew Al was shaking him awake at dawn, two hours before the race would start. Ed gathered up his gear without a word, stuffed some breakfast down his throat and followed him out.

He didn't bother to look for Winry or even check if she was awake. He would find out what choice she had made at the finish line.


	10. Steel

_A.N. WOW! This is my first story with over one hundred reviews! Major milestone! Thank you so much for reading, guys.  
_

Chapter Ten - Steel

The racers met at the edge of town along with several older men and women volunteering as judges. A truck sat idling in the street, ready to take them to the starting line. All four of the other competitors had already taken seats in the back of the truck, and gathered around them on the street was a small group of mixed adults and teenagers—friends and family come to wish the racers luck.

Dominic arrived with Paninya on his shoulders at the same time as Ed and Al. The rest of the group looked at them all, particularly at Paninya's stumps, in varying stages of confusion. Cal's eyes alighted on Ed's rollerblades, and he smirked in anticipation.

One of the judges approached Dominic and Paninya, blinking up at the girl in confusion. "This may be a silly question, but...are you planning on racing today, Paninya?"

"There was a problem with my legs," Paninya said cheerfully, quite as though this had all been her idea in the first place. She slapped one of her stumps. "Dominic caught the malfunction just in time. It could have been a disaster if I tried to race."

The judge looked to Dominic for confirmation. The mechanic didn't even blink. "Her legs weren't functioning properly," he intoned. "They needed to be replaced."

"Edward over there is going to take my place," Paninya announced, pointing, and heads swiveled in Ed's direction. He didn't bother to wait for permission before tossing his skates in the back of the truck and climbing in. The others were sizing him up, he knew, and the judges seemed a little taken aback.

"I don't think this has happened before," the judge said, squinting up at Ed. "A racer choosing a replacement, I mean. I haven't seen you in any of the preliminary races, young man. Are you sure you can keep up in a competition like this?"

"I wouldn't have picked him if he couldn't!" Paninya exclaimed, affronted.

"Then it's settled," Cal said coolly. "I don't have a problem with this. What about you guys?"

One by one, the other racers shook their heads. Ed recognized one of them as a friend of Cal's from the first race and made a mental note to watch out for more gravel on the road. There were only two other competitors, a weedy boy with automail on his left leg up to the knee and a blonde girl that could have been Ed's reflection—automail left arm and right leg. They were neutrals, as far as Ed was concerned. He wouldn't get in their way if they didn't get in his.

Ideally, the best case scenario would be for Ed to win the whole race. No one could tarnish Winry's reputation then. But he wasn't delusional. Reckless and determined, maybe, but not delusional. Ed was still too new at this sport to hope for an outright win against people with far more skill and experience than him. His best bet would be to slow Cal and his friend down as much as possible and let one of the others take first place.

But if the opportunity to win came, he certainly wasn't going to pass it up...

"Wait! Hold on!"

All thoughts of the race flew from his mind and Ed twisted around to look over his shoulder, heart in his throat. Al turned as well and yelped when a frazzled Winry nearly collided with him. She sprinted up to the truck and shoved a pack at Ed, gripping the tailgate to catch her breath. "Here, take these!"

With an uncertain look at the mechanic, Ed opened the bag. And he gasped. She had given him a pair of brand new rollerblades constructed from tough-looking boots with shiny wheels welded to the bottom. The boots would come halfway up his shin and a series of leather straps and shiny buckles would keep them on his feet no matter what, unlike the ill-fitting cast offs Paninya had lent him.

And stitched into the leather on both of them was the Rockbell logo. Ed could tell at a glance they were meant only for him. Only the right skate had extra padding and a toe guard to protect fragile flesh and bone. These hadn't been bought or borrowed, but _made_. Ed looked back down at his mechanic, who on closer inspection looked tired enough to drop where she stood.

"Winry," Ed said in mild alarm. "How did you make these on such short notice? Did you even _sleep?_"

"Nope," Winry said with a faint smile, rubbing one bloodshot eye. "And I actually started working on them days ago, right after you came back to the shop with skates that first time. I only just finished them this morning. Meant to give them to you before you left, but I fell asleep..."

Ed skimmed his palm over the wheels, overcome by a wealth of emotions he couldn't name. Winry may have been completely against him entering these races, but even so, she had intended to support him since the very beginning. It must have taken all her skill and concentration to make these so quickly, and yet not a single detail was overlooked.

"Thank you," Ed murmured. It felt far too inadequate, but he didn't think he was _quite _prepared to go around kissing his mechanic in public. "Thanks a lot, Winry. You have no idea how much this will help me."

Winry returned his smile. She glanced behind him at Cal and whatever she saw made her return her attention to Ed with an anxious look. "Just...just make it to the finish line, okay? I'll be waiting."

Ed flashed her a grin. "I'll be the first one there."

One of the judges climbed into the driver's seat of the truck, and Ed settled back down with the skates in his lap. Winry moved back, never taking her eyes off him. Paninya gave him a jovial wave, and Al held up his fist in a parody of a fist bump. "Good luck, Brother!"

Ed held up his own fist, feeling confident and hopeful for the first time that day. The rest of the people standing around also started calling farewells, wishing luck and speed to the individual competitors, and the racers answered with boasts and war cries of their own. All except for Cal. He didn't even raise his head during that period, and not one person called his name. Ed couldn't help but wonder at that. No one had come to watch him race. No friends, no family, not even his father was there. Who would he celebrate with if he won?

As soon as the truck pulled out of sight of the others, the racers began donning their gear. Ed slid Winry's rollerblades on his feet and buckled them in place, marveling at how snug they were. There would be no wobbling in these skates! He pulled a new helmet on as some of the racers started trading casual jibes. Nothing serious, just something to get them pumped up. They ignored Ed for the most part, apparently finding nothing about him worth taunting. All the better for Ed. He would be perfectly happy if they underestimated him until it was too late.

The sun was shining full force by the time they reached the starting line. This time, the cliff was devoid of casual racers. The judge and the competitors were alone. Ed could see Rush Valley coming to life far, far below them, hundreds of people smaller than ants gathering in the streets to watch the race. Someone was talking on a loudspeaker, but Ed couldn't hope to make out the words from here. He wondered where Al and Winry were in all that turmoil.

The racers all climbed from the truck and moved off in different directions. No one lined up at the starting line quite yet, but some were doing warm-up stretches, so it couldn't be much longer. Ed was the last to leave the truck, but Cal blocked his way. His confidence seemed to have taken a turn for the worse sometime during the drive, because now he faced Ed with a sour look.

"You made a mistake coming here," Cal hissed. "I'm not playing games anymore. If you cross that starting line, I'll do everything I can to ruin her. Just go home, Elric!"

"I burned my home to the ground three years ago," Ed snapped, fed up with the relentless threats. "I'm not going anywhere."

Ed shoved past him and touched his skates to the ground. As soon as he moved, he grinned. Automail or otherwise, Winry's work was flawless. The rollerblades glided over the rough asphalt like it was glass, the wheels spinning smoothly. They wouldn't make him an expert, but they sure as hell made him feel like one. He smirked at Cal over his shoulder, basking in the other's astounded look when he realized Ed was no longer a fish out of the water.

"Over here, racers!" the judge called.

As one, the racers drifted over where the judge stood. Someone had painted a thick black line at the crest of the hill to mark the starting line. Ed made to take a place, but Cal's friend blocked his way, forcing him to take the spot farthest to the right. Ed scowled and watched Cal take a place second from the left with a feeling of déjà vu, remembering the last time the two of them had stood on this exact spot. Things hadn't turned out well back then. Would this be any different?

Ed jumped when a loud noise like a gunshot went off nearby, echoing off the hills. The judge held a flare gun pointed at the sky, and Ed watched the orange flame arc high above their heads. A distant cheer rose from the town, and he relaxed. That must have been a sign to let Rush Valley know the competitors were in position. Everyone would be finding spots along the course now, ready to watch the big race. The road up to the starting line had been strangely empty on the way up, but Ed supposed that was to be expected. The spectators were much more interested in how the race ended, not how it began.

"You all know the rules, but I'll go over them one more time," the judge announced formally. "This final showdown for the title of street racing champion goes from this starting line to the Rush Valley sign in front of the train station. Once you reach the bottom of this road, you may take any route you want through town to the finish line. The main thoroughfares will remain completely clear of people throughout the race. Whether you want to play it safe or take a risk charting your own path is up to you."

Paninya had told Ed much the same thing yesterday, so he only nodded along with the others. It was tempting to try his luck with the back alleys that were rife throughout Rush Valley, but there was no telling how many blind spots he would run into or who or what might be blocking his way. His best bet would be to stick with the main streets.

"This is a race of individuals," the judge said sternly, eyeing each of them. "There will be no teamwork and no sabotage. Contact between the racers is strictly forbidden except to help an injured racer leave the course, if you are so inclined. _Unlike_ with the preliminary rounds, there are six judges in separate locations on the course, myself included. Those who are seen breaking the rules _will_ be disqualified."

The judge seemed pretty bent on making sure they understood these rules. Ed only had to take one look at the aggressive faces of the other racers to see why. Even if there was no outright cheating, none of them were interested in fair play. This race would be fast and brutal, and there would probably be more than one accident by the time it was over. And there was just no way those six judges alone could cover _every _road in Rush Valley. It would take a combination of skill, guts and sheer dumb luck to make it to the bottom unscathed.

Cal shot a hard look at his friend, receiving a curt nod in return. The judge moved to stand off to the side, raising the flare gun a second time, and the antagonism between the racers became almost tangible. Not even Ed was immune to the atmosphere. Ed double checked the straps on his helmet and sucked in a deep breath, bending his knees as his muscles hummed with tension. He had to get through this. It was the only way to make sure Winry would never have to live in fear again.

He had to _win!_

Another _crack!_ split the air in two. Ed barely heard it over the clacking of wheels on the pavement as he and the other four racers surged forward. Ed barreled for the slope as fast as he could, pulling just a bit ahead of the others as he tucked his body and began to speed up. The wind tugged at his braid and jacket, whipping them around violently, and his eyes went wide. But this time, it wasn't from fear.

This was..._amazing!_ Until now, Ed hadn't fully comprehended the importance of having good rollerblades, but now he could only allude it to having the perfect automail attuned only to his body and his needs. He could barely even feel them on his feet! Ed whooped as he flew down the hill at a pace that left his eyes watering and just kept going _faster._ Just like the first time, the rest of the world faded into the background until there was only the road. Only _speed_.

Shapes moved in and out of his periphery, crowding close to him, but none could build up enough momentum to pass him. Ed arched his back, crouching as low as he possibly could to eliminate any extra air resistance. The first turn came up, and he angled his skates, taking the curve easily and holding his position as the leader. But as soon as the road straightened out again, a hand seized the hem of his shirt and yanked him back. Ed flapped his arms wildly as he tried to keep his balance, and both Cal and the girl took advantage of the distraction to shoot ahead of him. Ed tried to jerk away from Cal's friend, but the guy just kept dragging him back.

"_Leave off, cheat!_"

The fifth racer seized Cal's friend, forcing him to release Ed. He threw a shout of thanks over his shoulder and hurried to put some distance between him and Cal's friend. The other two racers grappled briefly before they abruptly separated and rejoined the race, though it was far too late for either of them to make up for it.

Ed tore his eyes away from them, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. Thanks to the interference, he was in a bad place. Both Cal and the girl that had gotten a solid lead and were excellent racers. They traded the lead back and forth through the next four turns while Ed searched frantically for a way around them. Every time he tried to pass them, one of them would swerve to block his way, and Ed was getting pissed. Whatever order they left this road in would set the standard for the rest of the race! All the other racers would have the advantage on the flatter ground in the town where speed depended entirely on the racer's abilities rather than gravity. He had to get ahead, _now._

On the next turn, Ed sucked it up and went for it. He built up as much speed as he could and darted for the inside curve, cutting so close to Cal that he crashed right into him. Cal wavered and stumbled to his knees, dropping back out of sight. Ed forgot him as he threw himself back into the race to pursue the girl. If he could just pass her on the next turn...he might actually have a chance!

"_Damn you, Elric!_"

The girl looked over her shoulder just as a huge rock whizzed by Ed's ear. The rock smacked her in the eye, and she shouted in pain, clutching at her face. Ed saw disaster coming in the wobble of her skates, saw the turn approaching too fast for her to react and the blind drop into the gorge beyond—

He clapped and leaned over to brush the ground, channeling alchemic energy through the road ahead of the girl. A dirt wall sprang up all along the edge of the road, higher than his head and solid enough to act as a barrier between the racers and the cliff. The girl plowed right into the wall and slid to the pavement moaning, but that was all Ed had time to see before he soared around the turn and left her behind. He glanced back to check on the others and saw that Cal's friend had given up on Ed and chosen to tackle the other racer instead. The two of them were wrestling around so ferociously that it made Ed wonder if he was really the only one with a personal score to settle. Either way, those two didn't seem in the least bit interested in the race anymore.

Three racers out of action, about fifty rules broken and they hadn't even entered the second portion of the course. Ed was beginning to remember why he hated this sport.

One more turn, the final one. Ed took it a little faster than necessary, but managed to stay upright as the road leveled out and he and Cal went flying into town. One moment there was only the empty road and the next there were buildings and people on the sidelines roaring their approval. Ed looked around, trying to work out which way to go. Not that it was all that hard, what with all the yelling and screaming and pointing.

Ed checked over his shoulder and was alarmed to see Cal eating up the distance between them. He put his head down and focused on just building speed, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. He normally had excellent endurance, but his muscles were already screaming with fatigue, unaccustomed to this kind of workout. Before he knew it Cal was even with him. Then without warning, Cal cut to the left and people scattered out of his way in panic. Ed cursed hotly when he vanished into an alley and scrambled to get himself turned around so he could pursue him. There was no telling what tricks Cal had up his sleeve, he couldn't let that bastard out of his sight for a second!

As soon as he went between the buildings, all outside sounds were cut off and the two of them were alone. Cal led him on a convoluted path in and around the back alleys littered through Rush Valley's business district, knocking over trash cans and pulling crates in his path to trip him up. Ed was forced to use every trick he knew to duck and dodge those traps without losing speed. And all the stunts Cal was pulling only served to slow him down, allowing Ed to cut his lead in half.

_He's getting desperate_, Ed thought grimly as he rounded another corner and avoided a bundle of metal pipes scattered in his path. Cal was all by himself with no allies to fall back on. And now that Ed had proven he could hold his own, there was no telling who would cross the finish line first once they got into the open again.

"What's the matter, you bastard?" Ed roared as they raced down a straightaway so narrow that his elbows kept hitting the walls on either side. "You're looking a little stressed! Or has it just now hit you that you're about to be shown up by a _novice?_"

"Don't flatter yourself!" Cal shouted breathlessly. "You and that mechanic should be the ones who are afraid of me!"

"The only thing I'm afraid of is explaining to Winry how I let you get second place instead of dead last like you deserve!"

Cal rounded a corner, shooting out into the open again, and Ed didn't hesitate to follow. The road they emerged on was deserted. A side road, not one of the main ones. And he realized with a start that the train station wasn't all that far from here, just a few roads away. They were getting close!

Ed put on another burst of speed, staying right at his opponent's shoulder. Cal threw something at him, a can from one of the dumpsters. The can didn't hit him, but it was enough of a distraction for Cal to grab him and try to shove him off the road. Ed elbowed him as hard as he could, but he couldn't pull away. The road dropped down a steep incline, and just ahead was a T-intersection with nothing but a very solid building dead ahead.

"You dumbass!" Ed shouted, punctuating every word with a punch. "Let _go _of me—!"

Their skates hit the curb and both of them pitched forward. Ed got off lucky, only colliding with the wall of the shop where he nursed a bruised arm. Cal was not so lucky. He was catapulted head first through the display window, which promptly shattered. Ed leaned heavily on the wall, gasping for breath as he listened to the broken glass crumple to the floor along with Cal's body. The silence after was so complete that his ears rung with it. All he could hear was the thundering of his heart and the steady hum of the crowd off in the distance.

Ed pushed himself upright slowly and approached the window to peek inside. "Cal?"

"_Ow_..."

Ed sighed when he spotted Cal sprawled out on the floor, cradling his head with both hands and bleeding in a dozen places. He glanced up and down the road, hoping to find someone he could recruit to see to Cal so he could go win the damn race, but there was no one.

He recoiled from the window, glancing off to the west in longing. He should leave the bastard here. It would serve him right. Someone would come along and help him after Ed crossed the finish line. It wouldn't even take that long. There was no reason _not_ to leave him here in a pool of his own blood, just like he left Ed at the roadside during the first race...

"Fuck it," Ed muttered and unbuckled his helmet, letting it drop to the street with a clatter. He leaned down to unbuckle his left skate, leaving the right one on to protect his foot from the glass, and climbed carefully through the window into the shop. He stood above the prone form with his arms crossed impatiently, tapping his steel toes until Cal finally, grudgingly, looked up.

"What're you waiting for?" Cal growled, mouth pulled tight with very real pain. "Go win the race."

"Don't tempt me," Ed snapped. "Get up so I can make sure you won't die in the next few minutes."

Cal grunted and didn't move. Ed grabbed his arm, turning him over roughly. "Come on, don't be pathetic! It's just some cuts and maybe a concussion."

"You don't say?" Cal grumbled.

"It's not as bad as automail surgery," Ed said a little less harshly. "You got through that, right? At least get out on the street and sit on the curb until I can send someone back for you. You'll hurt yourself worse rolling around in this. Not that you don't deserve it."

Slowly, Cal planted his hands on the ground and sat upright, wincing as broken glass cascaded off his arms and legs. He looked at his offered hand dubiously and eventually took it, meeting his eyes distrustfully. "You're too damn noble, Elric..."

"So I've been told."

"...that's why you're going to _lose!_"

Cal scooped up a handful of glass and flung it at his face. Ed stumbled back with a pained cry when tiny shards bit into his skin, centimeters away from blinding him. He used his sleeve to swipe most of them away, feeling beads of blood dot his face, and looked around wildly. "You son of a _bitch!_"

Cal jumped through the window and snatched up Ed's left skate, grinning spitefully. "I'll just take this with me," he taunted. "Better go help your mechanic start packing!"

Ed hobbled to the window and tumbled through it, but Cal was already halfway down the street with the skate dangling from his hand. He punched a new hole in what little glass remained, furious with himself for not seeing this coming. Even if Cal hadn't planned that from the beginning, he had sure as hell known how to take advantage of it. Ed dropped to the curb after Cal vanished around the corner, glaring at his bare foot as the seconds ticked by. He couldn't come this far only to lose because of something this stupid! Winry would never forgive him for that!

Winry...automail...

Ed seized his right foot and examined the wheels on the bottom of his remaining skate. Then he ran a hand along the sole of his automail foot. Could he...? Yes, he could! It wouldn't be the best solution, but it was the only option he had left. Settling on the metal frame of the window as a likely material, Ed planted his foot on the frame and slapped his hands together, letting the alchemy wash over him. He couldn't take the time to check over the result. Either it would work or it wouldn't. Ed set his foot back on the ground gingerly, moved forward a bit...

...and the metal wheels transmuted to his automail foot rolled. They were rough and they were ugly and Winry would probably shriek if she saw them, but they _worked_.

He wasted no more time, skating on ahead until he emerged onto a main road. Noise assaulted his ears, but Ed ignored all the people urging him on. There was no sign of Cal. The finish line was on the next street over, just beyond that row of shops on his left. Cal had probably skated to the end of the street until he found a road to take him to the other side and the final stretch to the finish line.

Ed had another idea in mind. After all, the rules clearly stated that he could take _any _route he wanted to the finish line. _Route_, not road.

Therefore, every inch of this town counted as part of the race course...including inside those shops!

"_Move it!_" Ed bellowed and sent the crowd scattering right and left when he ducked off the road. He shoved open the door of the first building he came to and stumbled straight through a crowded restaurant, nearly starting a riot when he knocked over people and drinks in his desperate race to the back door. All the buildings on this side of the street were built on a hill. The front door of the restaurant was on street level, but the back door opened onto a balcony on the second story, predictably crowded with people who must have paid a hefty price for a prime view of the finish line.

Ed was about to give them even more to see. Once on the balcony, he yanked someone out of his way and threw himself over the iron railing, dropping to the street more than ten feet below and narrowly missing even more spectators. He landed hard, bending his knees and planting his hands on the pavement to absorb the shock, but he only gave himself two seconds to recover. And as he straightened up, Ed noticed three things.

Cal was up the road to his right, his wave of victory frozen in midair as he stared at Ed with his mouth hanging open.

The finish line was to his left, the red ribbon still stretched from one side of the Rush Valley sign to the other, waiting for the winner to break it.

And the crowd liked his entrance. A _lot_. They wouldn't shut up even when Ed skated into the street and the transmuted wheels on his automail sent a fountain of sparks dancing over their shoes. There were sparks flying with every other stroke now that he was racing in earnest, which must have looked totally badass, but Ed was positive he was about to pull a Mustang and set someone on fire.

The finish line was barely thirty paces away. The red ribbon beckoned him on, a bright glimmer of color in the morning sunlight. But Cal had recovered his senses and was quickly gaining. The swell of noise pressed in on all sides as Ed put everything he had into going _faster_. Right leg, left leg, right leg, left leg. Cal appeared in the corner of his eye for a brief moment...and slowly, agonizingly, slipped out of sight again. Ed pumped his legs, making sure he would _stay _behind as they came upon the finish line.

"_Go, Ed! Kick his ass!_"

"_Finish it, Brother!_"

"_Go, kid! GO!_"

Two automail hands reached for the ribbon, flailing desperately...and Ed's hand closed around it first, tearing it free from the Rush Valley sign with one quick jerk. He straightened up and stretched both fists to the sky, mouth open in a silent scream of victory, still rolling forward on momentum alone as the onlookers completely lost their senses. People hugged and kissed and cried, caught up in the excitement of the moment as they filled the sky with their cheers.

"_Edward!_"

Winry broke free from the crowd and ran toward Ed with her arms outstretched, completely heedless of the fact that he was still going far too fast to even think about stopping. Ed collided with her and they clung to each other as he tried to keep his balance. In the end, he was too heavy for her, and Winry bore him gently to the ground, letting him lay down on his back where he gasped for breath like a fish out of water. Ed couldn't hear a single word she was saying in all the commotion, but judging from the enthusiastic kiss on the cheek followed by a sharp smack to the head, she couldn't decide if she loved him for winning or hated him for going through hell to do it.

Then Al and Paninya and Dominic and Garfiel were all there too. Al grabbed his hand and helped him sit upright while the others gathered around, all babbling at him at once. Ed pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead with a trembling hand, too exhausted to do more than offer them all a shaky grin. Winry threw her arms around his neck again, sobbing and laughing all at once.

"I can't believe you won!" Paninya shouted from Dominic's shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. "I mean, I just can't _believe _it! After I spent months getting ready for this, and then you come waltzing in with only _two days _of practice—!"

"You only have yourself to blame," Ed called over the noise. "That's what you get for stealing my watch, thief!"

"That was so cool, Brother!" Al babbled in excitement. "That was amazing! You've got to teach me how to do that once I'm back in my body!"

Ed nodded distractedly, his elation plummeting when he heard one voice carrying on above the others. He peered around the legs of the people all around him and spotted the source. Cal was standing with four of the judges, bellowing at the top of his lungs and pointing at Ed in accusation.

"He _cheated!_ He went off the course to get ahead of me!"

"Just hold _on_ a moment, Callahan!" a judge said sharply. "Give us a chance to talk to your competitor..."

"There's nothing to talk about! He _can't_ just go through a building like that, it's against the rules!"

"That's not what I was told!" Ed shouted, calling their attention to him. He looked straight in the eyes of the other judges, chin held high. "The judge that took us to the starting line said we could take any route we wanted. I didn't hear anything about using only the roads. It's not my fault no one else took advantage of a faster way to the finish line."

The judges looked at each other uncertainly. And one of them, a woman, shrugged. "I'm afraid he is correct, Callahan," she explained. "Any route through town _means _any route as long as the racers get themselves to the finish line on their own two feet. There is no rule against going through buildings, and we can't change the rules _now_."

A second judge nodded in agreement. "The window was open to any racer, including yourself, so we can't consider it to be outright cheating."

"He's an _alchemist!_" Cal howled. "Just look at his foot, he's not even wearing a real skate! That alone should disqualify him!"

"Your foot?" Winry said in confusion. She leaned over to look at Ed's feet and screamed, seizing his automail. "Ed, you _jerk_, you transmuted my automail _again!_ This is going to take me hours to sort out! I can't _believe _you—!"

Ed cringed when the rest of the judges crowded close to get a look at what he had done, not liking their alarmed looks at all. He doubted they had anything in their rules pertaining to alchemists, which meant they could easily disqualify him for any number of things. All Cal had to do was accuse him of using alchemy to cheat and they would probably buy it...

Dominic snatched his foot out of Winry's hands, nearly lifting Ed off the ground as he examined the new addition. He spun the wheels a little and snorted, turning back to the judges. "These wheels are very sloppy, the worst I've ever seen," he scoffed. "Ask any engineer in this town and they'll say the same. In this case, the boy put himself at a _disadvantage_, which you cannot fault him for. Had he used something like this from the beginning of the race, he would have lost for sure."

"If a normal person strapped makeshift wheels to their feet at the last second," Al added, "you wouldn't disqualify them. You would commend them for being innovative."

"And it's apparent that he had no choice," another voice called.

Another man pulled away from the crowd, a fifth judge. And in his hand was Ed's missing skate. "I saw Cal carrying this for a short distance before he tossed it into a dumpster. It's the match to that boy's right skate. If _that's_ not sabotage, I don't know what is."

Those in the crowd close enough to hear this started muttering among themselves, passing the story to the people behind them. The judges weren't the only ones to look at Cal, waiting for a reaction or a denial. But Cal only continued to rant and rail, practically spitting in his fury. "But he's still an _alchemist!_ He's not a normal person! It's unfair to pit him against ordinary people when he could have used alchemy at any time to get ahead!"

"But he _didn't_ use it!" Winry cried, rising to her feet and facing Cal with eyes blazing in fury. "He refrained from using alchemy until he needed it to help him stay in the race after _you _sabotaged him! Edward is _not_ a cheater, which is far more than I can say for you, you _scum!_"

"Don't even talk to me, slut!" Cal retorted, and several people cried out in outrage. "Don't _even!_ No one gives a damn what you say in _his_ defense! No one…"

Cal trailed off when he searched for support...and met only hostile faces on all sides. Not even the judges were making the effort to stay impartial. In fact, there was a very noticeable shift in the crowd as people drifted in Winry's direction, grouping around her and Ed in a silent show of support.

Then one man stepped forward and pulled back his sleeve to reveal and automail arm up to his bicep. "Winry's a good girl," he stated. "She repaired a broken part that no one else could fix and didn't even charge me extra for working with an unfamiliar model. If _she_ doesn't like you, then she has a very good reason."

One by one, more people spoke up, adding their own testimony. And not all of them were customers. Ed even spotted the redhead from the bar, who winked at him cheerfully before also rallying behind Winry. Dominic cracked his knuckles while above him Paninya perched her chin on his head and stuck her tongue out. Garfiel moved to stand beside Winry, placing one beefy hand on her shoulder.

Ed looked at his brother calmly. "Al, help me up."

As soon as Al set him on his feet, Ed hobbled over to Cal and punched him with all his might, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"_If you EVER make my mechanic cry again, I'll mess you up so much that no engineer in the world will be able to put you back together!_"

Cal clambered to his feet and made a stumbling retreat, hindered only by a few shoves and curses from the crowd. Ed flexed his automail fingers a little and grinned back at his mechanic. "What do you know? The joints _are _better than before!"

Winry looked a little overwhelmed by all the allies around her, moved to the point of tears, but smiling all the same. Ed wanted to go stand beside her as well, but the crowd got there first. Dozens of people started bombarding her with questions about Ed's automail and his rollerblades, and Ed found himself equally isolated when even _more_ people decided to hoist him up on their shoulders and parade him up and down the street. Within minutes the guy on the loudspeaker was announcing his name, proclaiming him to be the first ever Rush Valley street racing champion.

Naturally, the crowd went nuts all over again.

Ed couldn't help but grin at all the positive attention, soaking it up. At the end of the street, the crowd dropped him off on the front steps of the train station next to the judges, which put him head and shoulders above the crowd. Ed spotted Winry in the front row, and he grabbed her hand and hoisted her up on the steps to stand beside him. This was as much her victory as his, and not just because she had been the one to build his automail and skates. The crowd didn't care, they cheered for both of them equally. Al and Paninya and the others were only just visible among all the faces, celebrating just as zealously as the most ardent of street racing fans.

The only downside was when the judges presented him with both his winnings and a custom made trophy. Ed took one look at the shoulder-high silver and gold monstrosity and grimaced. "Crap, that's not gonna fit in the suitcase..."

* * *

_A.N. I'm such a sap. Both this chapter and the next one prove it. The final chapter will most likely be up tomorrow, since it's so short and there's no point in making you guys wait.  
_


	11. Winner

_A.N. I know some reviewers wanted to see Cal's reaction to Ed being the Fullmetal Alchemist or something, but I never planned on bringing that up in the first place. The story is basically over, and this is just a cute little scene to wrap it all up. _

Chapter Eleven - Winner

Ed gaped at the front page of the Rush Valley weekly newspaper, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He looked over his shoulder at his brother, begging silently for him to say it was all a cruel joke. Al shrugged helplessly, and Ed gulped as he took another look at the paper in his lap. Specifically, the headline. And the _picture_.

"What the hell were they thinking?" Ed said in a strained voice.

"Now Brother," Al said soothingly. "I'm sure they didn't mean any harm. And I don't see why you're complaining. You always liked being the center of attention."

Ed's eyebrow twitched and his hands gripped the paper so hard that he tore it. Al was absolutely right about that. After committing so much wrong in his life, he really _did _like having so many people speak of his accomplishments with approval. It was a gentle reminder that he wasn't a bad person at his core, that he _was _capable of doing right by other people.

So when they saw some kid passing out the papers in front of the train station, Ed hadn't been able to resist taking a peek at the article on the street racing competition. The military was a weak presence here in Rush Valley, and his state title hadn't really spread around in the valley as anything more than a curious bit of gossip. Ed had wondered, idly, what these people thought of him, a virtual unknown, winning the race they had anticipated so fervently.

But _this..._

"What the _hell_ were they thinking?"

The caption was bad enough, sprawling across the front page in _giant block letters _that even a _child_ could read:

_Beauty and the Amputee: First time street racing champion, Edward Elric, shares his victory with talented mechanic, Winry Rockbell. _

And then there was the picture. God, the _picture_. Someone must have taken it just after he crossed the finish line and ran into Winry because the photograph showed them tangled in each other's arms. Both his braid and Winry's hair flared out in a way that suggested the photo had been taken in motion, and the crowd in the background was blurred.

But the _angle_. That was the problem. Whoever took this had been standing behind Winry and to the side a little, which made it difficult to see either of their faces. And since the picture was motionless, their embrace looked...well, like an embrace. A joyous, bone-crushing hug of celebration, and not the near-disastrous collision it had actually been.

Put it all together—the caption's vague insinuation, the angle of the picture, the position of their bodies—and at first glance one could almost imagine them to be...

"N-No one's going to believe it," Ed stammered weakly. His eyes darted around the platform, and he blanched when he spotted five or six other people reading the exact same edition. "Right? I mean, that's not what it looked like when you were actually _there_. Right?"

"I don't know," Al said slyly. "You two looked pretty cozy from where I was standing."

"But you _know _that's not what happened!" Ed said in desperation, waving the paper around. "You know we didn't do..._that!_ People will know better than to believe this garbage, they _have _to!"

"You know, I think Granny gets the latest Rush Valley editions delivered every week..."

Ed groaned and buried his head in his hands. "I'm _dead_ the next time we go back to Resembool. Unless we—!"

"We are _not _derailing the train that delivers the papers," Al said sternly, crushing his hopes.

"Hey guys, I got the tickets!"

Ed stuffed the newspaper under his coat when Winry jogged up to them. She handed Al their train tickets and plopped down on the bench beside Ed. "They said the train should be here any minute," she told them. "Are you sure you two have everything?"

"There's not much to pack," Ed reminded her, nodding at their suitcase. "Thanks for hanging onto that trophy for us. I didn't know what we were going to do with it."

"It's no problem," Winry told him, smiling. "Mr. Garfiel thinks it'll be good for business to have it displayed in the shop. But I still can't believe you gave all that prize money to Paninya!"

"Ed gets enough money from the State for us to get by," Al pointed out. "And it's thanks to Paninya that Ed could be in the race at all. She needs it more than us to pay back Dominic."

"I didn't even really give it to her," Ed complained. "She snatched the cash out of my pocket when I wasn't looking. I mean, I know we planned to hand it over anyway, but _geez!_ Someday, she's gonna go back to her old ways and everyone in this town will wake up flat broke!"

"I'll make sure she stays in line," Winry laughed.

A loud whistle caught their attention, and for the first time in a long time Ed's heart sank when he saw the train rounding the bend and pulling up to the platform. He frowned and shook his head. Was he actually getting _attached_ to this place? That wasn't right. He couldn't afford to let that happen or he would get bogged down by homesickness when he was supposed to be focusing on getting Al back to normal. They had already stayed in Rush Valley for over a week, days longer than they planned.

Although, their extended stay could be justified. Ed's foot really _had _taken Winry hours to put back together again, and he was still bearing the scars from her lecture on how transmuting random crap to his automail was something he should never, _ever _do. And even after his automail was fixed up, Winry and Garfiel had still needed their help to deal with all the visitors. The shop had been swamped with people for two whole days after the race. People wanting automail, people wanting skates, people just wanting the meet Winry.

And there seemed to be an awful lot of young _men_ ranking among that last group. Young men interested in making 'appointments' with his mechanic...

The beast grumbled a little in discontent, but Ed put it out of his mind. All those men had been politely turned down by Winry almost as soon as they put their advances forward, long before Ed even got wind of their interest. Winry could take care of herself just fine. In fact, ever since Ed won the race, she had been exceedingly happy, full of life and energy as her business thrived. Best of all, Winry wasn't _afraid _anymore. The wounds left by Cal were finally closing up. She would be okay.

_And she doesn't need me_, Ed thought a little wistfully as people disembarked from the train. He had come when she was in trouble, and now that the trouble had passed it was time for things to go back to the way they were. Al was back at the top of his priority list. The Philosopher's Stone wouldn't find itself.

But, damn it all, he _still_ didn't want to leave!

Al picked up their suitcase. "Well, I guess this is goodbye again," he said a little sadly.

Winry nodded and stood up, regarding them both with a wistful smile. "Be careful out there, okay? And make sure you come visit soon!"

"Are you coming, Brother?" Al asked when Ed didn't get up right away.

"Go save us some seats," Ed muttered, staring resolutely at the train in front of them. "I'll catch up."

Al faltered for a moment and then nodded, heading for the train. "Okay, take your time!"

Ed grimaced when he recognized that _tone_ again, shooting the back of Al's helmet a dirty look as his brother boarded the train. Winry also looked a bit uncomfortable, but she took a seat beside Ed anyway. He avoided looking her way at first, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say. There was so _much _to say.

"Cal's not here anymore," Winry mentioned quietly. Ed instinctively tensed at the name, but relaxed again at the mixed relief and indifference in her voice. "Garfiel told me that he left yesterday to live in the next town over, closer to where his father is stationed."

"If he knows what's best for him, he'll _stay _away," Ed growled.

Winry's lips quirked and she bowed her head as she toyed with the hem of her skirt. "Apparently, he was having a hard time finding an engineer here. This place...Rush Valley protects its own. Everyone tends to be of one mind in all things. I had forgotten that."

Ed cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. This quiet, humble gratitude was a side of Winry that was completely alien to him, and it had him a little discomfited and tongue-tied. "Yeah, but...well, yeah. What, did you think your customers would just stand by and let some asshole harass you?"

"If I had just spoken up sooner," Winry said slowly. "Maybe you and Al wouldn't have had to do anything at all."

Ed squirmed in his seat. "Still would have done _something..._"

"Thank you."

He sighed, throwing Winry an impatient look. "That's the ninth time you've thanked me since I won the race. Let it rest, will ya?"

"Sorry," Winry said sheepishly. "But I really _am _grateful, you know? And, well..."

She didn't say anymore, letting her eyes drift to the ground. Ed watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should say something or just leave it like this. What he _really _wanted to do was kiss her goodbye. There hadn't been any more since that one, and he wanted to somehow acknowledge that it had been the start of something real and not just a fluke.

But even if it was, that didn't change the fact that he and Al were _leaving_. Kissing Winry now would be the equivalent of asking her to stay attached to him as...as much more than a friend. And how could Ed ask that of her? It wasn't like Winry was lacking in potential boyfriends. Surely not _all _of those other guys would be like Cal, and at least they would see her more than once every couple months, had so much more to offer. He and Al had been working at getting their bodies back for _years _now and probably had years more to go.

He had no right to ask her to wait that long. He would be doing exactly what that bastard had done to his mother.

Except...except that he _did _want her to wait for him. He _did_. Ed studied the girl next to him and mentally shrugged. Well, what the hell? Even if he tried, it wasn't like she had to kiss back. She might slap him for all he knew.

"Ed," Winry murmured, turning to him. "I..."

She never got further. Ed took her hand and leaned across the bench to give her a quick, awkward kiss. He was a little off. He got the corner mouth instead of the center, but like hell he was going back for another try. Heat was already rushing to his face as he jumped to his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets, savoring the lingering warmth on his palm. "See you later," he muttered.

He was halfway to the train when a hand seized his braid and wrenched him around until he was face to face with a pair of very bright, very angry blue eyes. Crap, she _was _going to slap him!

"Winry—!"

"Edward Elric, that is _not _how you kiss someone goodbye!" Winry shouted at the top of her lungs, shaking him. "That barely qualified as a peck on the cheek! Do it right this time!"

"But—the train—!"

"It'll wait!"

Ed looked at her helplessly, very aware of the fact that they were standing in the middle of a train station with lots and lots of people around them. Affection was all well and good, but _public _affection made him feel just a little too vulnerable. And Winry's miffed expression was by no means helping to speed things along.

Ed shifted from foot to foot and straightened his shoulders. Winry wanted another kiss? Well then, he would give her a damn kiss!

"Shut your eyes," Ed ordered.

"Why?"

"Just do it! I can't do this with you _looking _at me."

Winry threw him a withering look and obeyed, waiting with her arms held stiffly at her sides. Ed toyed with the idea of just leaving her like that and running for his life, but that was more likely to just make her cry. He looked around quickly to make sure everyone was minding their own business and inched a little closer. Winry breathed in sharply when he gripped her arms, but she didn't move, quivering a little with what he hoped was anticipation. Ed leaned forward, hesitating when their lips were close enough to touch.

_Just like the race_, he told himself. He just had to go for it, pretend he knew what he was doing and hope he made it out alive.

Winry jumped a little when he finally pressed a clumsy kiss to her lips. Ed held onto her a little tighter, worried she would pull away, but she did nothing like that. Winry sighed and leaned into him, sliding her hands under his coat and wrapping her arms around him.

And that was it. Ed was lost all over again. There was too much sensory information to keep track of it all. The sheer heat and scent of her body intoxicated him, and he closed his eyes the better to take it all in, burying his hand in her hair. Winry skimmed her hands over his shoulder blades and moved her mouth against his eagerly, nipping at his bottom lip with a happy humming noise. Ed wondered if he should be embarrassed that those same noises were also coming from _him_, but couldn't muster up enough dignity to care. He was making out with _Winry_, for God's sake, he wasn't going to interrupt this for _anything_...

Except the train whistle.

Ed wrenched his mouth away just in time to see the train beginning to inch away from the platform. Winry yelped when he shoved her aside with a vicious oath and sprinted after it. "Oh crap, _wait!_ Al, stop the damn train! _Alphonse!_"

He made a wild grab for the door and hauled himself onto the train just as it began to pick up speed. Ed leaned out the door and waved, heart soaring to his throat when he saw Winry waving from the platform, beaming. It wasn't a promise. There was no guarantee she would really wait for him or that things would work out between them. But it _was_ hope. It was a chance at something great with someone that mattered, which was much more than he'd had before coming to Rush Valley.

And it was another reason to restore Al as soon as possible.

Ed entered the train when the station was out of sight and searched the cars one by one until he found Al. He settled down in the seat across from him, gazing out the window with his mind still back with the girl on the platform...

Gradually, he became aware that someone in the general vicinity was snickering. Ed looked at his brother's quaking armor, perplexed. "What?"

Al's giggles became a full-blown laughing fit, enough that he actually doubled over and clutched at his midsection. "You—Winry—_kissing—!_"

"You...you _saw _that?" Ed hollered, mortified. "Jeez, that was supposed to be private! What are you doing watching us?"

"I _knew _something was going on!" Al wailed. "I _knew _it!"

Ed kicked him in the chest hard enough to leave a small dent. "Damn it, Al, quit _laughing _at me!"

Al slapped his knee a few times, choking a little as he slowly brought his mirth under control. "I-I'm sorry, I can't help it, Brother. I had to get it out of my system. Really, I'm happy for you two."

"You better be," Ed grumbled, still burning from head to toe as he crossed his arms defensively. The newspaper under his coat crinkled, and Ed pulled the article back out, running a finger along the edge of the picture with a small smile. It really _was _a pretty neat snapshot. The rollerblades even gave him a distinct height advantage over Winry, which he secretly gloated over. Maybe later he would cut it out and press it into his journal...

"Can I ask you something?" Al said quietly. "Can you tell me...what it's like?"

"What?"

Al shrugged a little and waved his hand vaguely. "You know. _That_. What you and Winry were doing."

Ed hesitated. And despite having just done the activity they were discussing, his mind drew a blank. He set his hand in his chin and studied the scenery as he racked his brain. Just _good _wasn't adequate to describe the excitement and uncertainty, the fluttering of both stomach and heart just before it happened. There were no words for the giddy, endlessly-falling sensation of the moment itself, nor for the way those feelings kept going long after it ended. It was _breathing_, it was _living_, it was...

"Brother?"

Ed grinned, raking his eyes over the picture in the newspaper. "It's like winning the race all over again."

* * *

_A.N. As of today, I'm returning to my old penname (Bookwrm389). I miss that name, it suits me better for varying reasons, and I never quite got used to AutumnOwl. I'm saying this for the benefit of those who put me on Author Alert recently, most likely because of this story. I hope I don't lose too many readers in the transition._

_Also...my EdWin muse has left the building. I do have some other stories in the works that I intend to finish, but none are romance, and I won't be churning out the oneshots quite as often now that my life has gotten busy again. Happy reading, everyone! I'll see you guys when inspiration strikes._


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